


Painted On My Heart

by girlintheshadows



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheshadows/pseuds/girlintheshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first real story.  Christine made her choice. What happens if Erik came back finally to see someone else had been waiting all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Two years. Two very long, sad and lonely years and she is still haunted by him. His voice, his face - eyes filled with so much sadness and yearning that she wakes up crying.

Almost everyone has gone now. The only ones to stay was Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg, and the managers. Meg couldn't help but wonder how well Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre have been able to hush everything up after the fire. Proof, she supposed, of some of the good money could do. Of course, there were still whispers. And the new troupe begging for the story of The Phantom.

Meg had become lead dancer after the re-opening of the Palais Gradier and had even been given a few main singing roles. But as much as she appreciated and enjoyed the new success and attention it brought, she couldn't wait to run out after a performance. She would do so as soon as she could decently excuse herself and hide away in her second home.

Indeed, her new habit of hiding brought her to the Phantom's Lair by accident. The gates and lock that lead to the underground lake from Rue Scribe that she had taken ahead of the mob two years ago have been replaced. And while there had always suspicions that there were many more trap doors and secret entrances, none were found. At any, rate Meg had taken to hiding, trying for a little peace away from the younger ballet girls or the fawning crowds. She made her way down to the third cellar and hid between two scenes -the very same where Joseph was hung, she realized, and wondered she could hide there with such calm- when she leaned against the wall and felt it shift and move aside. Deep down she knew what it was and replacing the hidden panel, she ran off to retrieve a lantern. Sneaking back down, she re-opened the wall.

Meg lowered herself down, finding herself in a strange hall of mirrors, many broken, and the door at the other end still stood open. She was back, back where she found his mask, feeling at last some semblance of peace and calm, almost happy were it possible. Meg lit a handful of tapers and sat in the wonderful darkness, letting his face and voice fill her mind, wondering if Erik were still alive.

That night she only sat and thought. Many nights later she came back, lit the candles and looked around. She almost immediately came across the mannequin, the second Christine. For the first time in so long she felt anger well up inside her. She let herself have vent and tore the mannequin apart, screaming and crying over how her dear friend hurt him. But more so she hated how she had set the whole tragedy in motion. She knew exactly when it happened, when she had lost all hope of Erik wanting her as much as she did him.

"Why!?" she screamed as she pummeled fruitlessly at the unblinking figure, "Why did I have to encourage you to sing for him. Had I known-" Meg crumpled to the floor, her little body racked with sobs. "Oh Christine, I -I didn't mean it. You were good, I wanted you to succeed. B-but if I'd known… would I have still wanted to help you?" she asked as she tried to put her image back together. That night she made her way back to the flat she shared with her mother with the headache she started with and bruised hands. Dear girl, still so impetuous.

He had been watching her come and go now for some months. Erik wondered what this girl meant in coming to his home so often. Even if he wasn't living in it, he thought it a gross invasion of his privacy.

Yet he noted she always came alone. He couldn't help but be intrigued that this slip of a girl would keep coming back. After puzzling many days over it, Erik figured she just wanted some place to be alone and have some peace. Fortunately she seemed to be a creature of habit- coming at the same time- so he knew he could take up residence in his home and she'd be none the wiser. If Meg wanted nothing more than a place for quiet reflection, he'd let her have it. What was a couple hours away from his own hearth?

Erik was there when she brought his mask back, though he couldn't help but wonder where she'd kept it hidden up to that point. She placed it on the organ and sat down slowly and stared at it.

"I see you, you know, and hear you."

Erik felt his heart stop. Christ! How could she possibly know? he thought. He was about to step out when he heard her voice again.

"Where are you Erik? Are the people nice and have you found a new little friend?"

Erik smiled to himself and shook his head. She was sitting there, face in her hands, talking to his mask. Silly girl, could she not find a person to talk to? Despite being 21 she still held an almost childlike candor and manner. Was that why he smiled to himself? Or the look on her face that said she thought herself silly for talking to a mask? Or was it that she was worried for him? She had always been a tenderhearted thing. Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he thanked the stars he was safe. She didn't know.

Erik was quickly settled in his home but was always very careful to be gone before Meg arrived. One day he wasn't so careful. It had been so long since he had played, and finally the lure of his beloved organ called him back and he lost himself in his old favorites, thinking of how he use to play them for the one he lost. So wrapped up, he almost didn't hide in time. He put the mask back and opened a passage behind one of the mirrors. It closed just as she tripped inside and came to a sudden stop, looking around with a happy expectant look.

"Your back? Where are you?" She bent and picked up a stray sheet of music and Erik silently cursed himself but refused to budge.

Meg set the page back behind the mask. "Why didn't you take this with you, Erik?" Meg stood, her smile slowly fading in the silence. Erik watched as her happy smile turned into a look of self-reproach and tears welled in those dark brown pools.

She sat at the organ and stared at the mask. "Perhaps I shouldn't come here anymore. I keep hoping for a change, something out of place. Now, I imagine it just because I want it to be. It's not like I leave here any the better for it. I go back feeling more dejected than when I came. Why does your pain weigh on me so Erik?"

Good question, Little Giry, thought Erik as she set aside the mask and studied the piece he had left behind. She played a few bars, hitting several bad chords, causing Erik to shudder. Good God, get her off my piano!

Again she studied the music, looking from the keys to the sheet music. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she focused so hard. And when she played anew, while it wasn't perfect, it showed she was once taught to play. If she practiced more she could be quite good. Erik searched his memory, trying to remember if Antoinette had ever said anything of her learning, or himself ever hearing her play. One surprise followed another. For now she sang. Erik recognized those words- a sweet and somewhat sad poem that had come out the past year.

A feeling of sadness and longing

That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles rain.

Come, read to me some poem,

Some simple and heartfelt lay

That shall soothe this restless feeling

And banish the thoughts of day…

Well, Miss Giry knew her poetry! And while she didn't have the power of voice as did Christine, there was a simplicity and feeling that made it not unpleasant to hear.

She sat intently several minute as if memorizing the exact order of the room before replacing the mask and walked out. She wasn't here for 15 minutes and she's already leaving! Erik was a little annoyed that this should bother him. It shouldn't when he could have his home to himself sooner than expected and that was good. Then why do you feel so downcast? Just stay detached. It may be time to make yourself known and get her out for good. Very wise and proper, no doubt, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Why can't I just do it? He couldn't figure out why he looked forward to leaving his home only to spy on the girl who sat there. She doesn't talk to the mask, at least not often, as if even that is too silly for her. Sometimes she plays, sometimes she reads, mostly she comes and just stares at the organ and mask before falling asleep. It was getting to be the close of September and the lair was getting colder now. He couldn't bear to watch her shiver, so one day he sneaked out and crept over. As he approached he felt something shift in his mind. A memory. He could see it so plainly. The Giry's flat. He didn't go there often but he remembered. He could hear her voice. He couldn't remember the argument he had had with Antoinette on this occasion but he remembered ripping off his mask in frustration. He was met with the tiny sobs of young Giry. As he hastily put it back on, she was scurrying over and climbing up in his arm, removing it and covering his cheek in kisses.

"What on Earth are you doing, Meg?"

"Making it better. M-mama says kisses make everything better. Your sad and hurt."

Never had anyone done such a thing, not even Nadir's son as best he could remember. And that innocent look, those deep brown pools crying for him had touched him deeply.

"Meg, you're an angel. Your kisses may not make this go away. But it has made my heart hurt less. Now, your maman and I are very sorry we woke you with our fight. But those little eyes must go back to sleep."

"No, I don't want to. Maman will let me stay up until you go. I never get to play with you." She had given a determined pout and settled her arms around his neck. So young and she seemed capable of ignoring the trance his voice seemed to put on most. Only when it suited her and he liked that in her. She promised to be a very saucy and witty child.

"But Little Giry has to practice tomorrow and I had plans to see you surpass all the others. Besides I have business to discuss with your maman and won't have time to play." He had settled onto the couch half cradling her as he tried his voice on her again. He couldn't tell if it was working or she was just so tired, but it didn't matter, she was giving in to the sleep she was fighting.

"Will you wake me before you go, Erik?"

"No, mon ange, I cannot." He smiles slightly and booped her nose then took the mask from her little fingers. "I read in a book a Burmese legend about the soul butterfly or "win-laik-pya." It is believed that a sleeping person's soul takes the shape of a butterfly and flies abroad while it's owner is asleep, searching for the souls of other persons and animals and returning when the owner awakes. Burmese children are still taught never to wake a sleeping person for fear they may die, or worse, live on without a soul. So I must leave you sleeping. I want you to be whole when you awake."

He smiled as those big eyes stared back up at him, a yawn threatening to emerge. "Then my soul will look for you when I sleep. And I'll find it. G'night Erik."

Amazing what one can remember. There had been so few happy memories he was surprised that had slipped his mind. He looked down on this girl, now grown, and covered her. He pushed back a strand of hair, so soft, the color reminding him of honey or corn silk.

"Little Giry, who do you prefer this tomb?"

Her eyes fluttered open and a faint smile touched her lips. "Erik….y-you're here…." She said before drifting off to sleep again.

Erik looks down, his hand in hers. Shocked, he drops her hand and went back to his hiding place. I can't do this again. No more! He couldn't help but see a serenity in her face that wasn't there before when she wakes. If he never makes that mistake again, then eventually she must convince herself that she was only dreaming. Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early October, and Don Giovanni was being performed. After receiving the compliments for her performance for her portrayal of Zerlina, she made her retreat. She went many times to the lair. It was actually livable again. Meg had worked fairly fast and efficiently to make the place free of dust and finally set straight. Tonight she sat at the organ and stared at the mask, for she had brought it back, carefully placed in front of several pages of sheet music.

Suddenly feeling hands on her shoulders, Meg gave a violent start, feeling also an inexplicable elation.

"Is this where you have been hiding yourself away?" asked Madame Giry. And with that simple question, Meg's excitement melted away.

"Only sometimes, maman. There are plenty of places to hide. And if you do not hide in the same place very often your not likely to be found easily, now are you? Which is what I want. Have you followed me?"

"I know, you are quite right, Ma cheri, ma belle. But it is not good to always hide away. You are young and need to be with friends."

"Maman, please, do not follow me. I have enough of the crowds and the ballet girls during the day. That's why I take off."

"Meg, my child, calm yourself. I do not follow you around. I did not do so tonight either. Like you, I come down here and think of the old days and my friend."

Meg rolled her eyes and couldn't help but feel how fortuitous it was that this was the only time she had come across her mother down here. That thought soothed her, but it didn't last, for she surprised herself by blurting out, "I think so often of him, maman. I worry for him. Do you think he is alright?"

She immediately regretted uttering those words. Meg loved her mother very much but at this moment she felt a lecture and heart-to-heart chat, which seemed inevitable, seemed oddly ill-placed. She braced herself for it nonetheless. Instead she felt her mother's fingers stray through her hair like the way she use to as a child and felt herself relax.

"Come up, Meg. You've been alone long enough. The new patron wants to meet you."

Up to that point Meg had felt content, flooded with memories of her childhood and her mother and thoughts of Erik. She always felt guilty when she became annoyed with her mother when her voice broke in on her private thoughts. And now this…Immediately Meg wilted and heaved a sigh.

"I've met the Baron de Castelot-Barbezac mother. He must be a dry old stick indeed if he can't remember meeting me- twice. Unless your just trying to get me up to meet someone else. If it's all the same, pray make my excuses and allow me another escape," she said as she stood. " I don't think I could bear another fawning aristocrat hoping to dally with one of the ballet tarts."

"Yes, your quite droll, Meg. I can hear Erik in that comment. But there's no need to be rude or vulgar. You are still a lady, remember that. Now, I agree he is quite serious and formal. But it's not him I want you to meet. It's his son, Nicolas. He's a very fine gentleman and I think he would suit you well."

Meg could not suppress a groan. "And maybe be the next Baroness. Oh, a mother's ambition! I'm sure he's everything I'd expect to find a pampered son of titled nobility."

Anger flashed in her mother's eyes and Meg cast her eyes down, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry maman. That was - I'm sorry. I'll come, and be on my very best behavior. Let's get this over with."

Meg followed her mother out, amazed to see her head to the lake. Of course she would have a key to the gate.

It had always been Meg, just Meg, to come down into his home. Erik couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Antoinette suddenly standing behind her. He felt strange at this new development. She was taking Meg to see this fop. Another! Meg, a baroness. She's grace any home, surely. But Erik couldn't help but feel like someone was taking the only little bit of sunshine he had left, even if it was secret to even her. She drew a pale sunbeam into his life that brightened with each hope she let cross her heart until he felt warm. The sting was too acute. He almost suspected he might care. Perhaps, he thought, it would be best to see them together and see where everything stands.

From the first meeting, Erik was there, back in the shadows watching over the little crowd gathered on the empty stage. Meg was all a lady should be, kind, polite, and gracious. But she was still a bit cool. She seems determined not to like him, Erik thought feeling a strange pride and relief filter though him, however briefly.

He couldn't help but notice Meg's astonished expression at seeing that "dry old stick" become animated and cheerful and carefree. She smiled at the obvious affection this father had for his son and how he came alive when he was near. A faint smile played at the corner of her lips that she was trying to quell when she looked up to Nicolas. And he, dear God, was a good looking specimen. Confident and smiling, open and frank, familiar but not breaching decorum, formal but with a welcoming and warm air about him. He hated to admit it, but this man wasn't a fop at all. It wasn't long before he had the whole set laughing, including Meg. A genuine, bubbly and sweet laugh that seemed to take her by surprise. She tried to scowl at him, like she was angry he got that out of her, but it ended in such a cute little pout.

The look on young Nicolas's face said it all. He's lost. And so am I…

Meg sat in her room, absently playing with a ribbon she had taken from her hair, thinking of the conversation and surprises of the afternoon when she heard a knock at her door. It was shortly followed by her mother making he way in.

"It was such a nice thing, hearing you laugh. I don't think I have heard it often lately. Did you like the young man?" asked her mother as she picked up a brush and slid it though her daughter's silky tresses.

"Oui, he was very nice. Everything a man should be. I think that's the standard line. I like him. And his father seemed so different. I almost couldn't believe it was the same Baron."

"Mm, yes, he is a good father I think. He must have missed him a lot while he was away. It is good to see a man behave as a father." Meg noted how her mother's strokes became slower and gazed at her mother through the mirror. "I wish I had known papa. That he'd not have gone away. I know you miss him terribly. What was he like?"

Antoinette smiled and kissed her daughter's head before finishing brushing Meg's hair and tied it in a loose braid. "I miss doing this for you…but let's not talk of your papa tonight. You should get some rest. We both should. But know your father loved you and he would have been very proud of you."

With that she walked from the room, leaving Meg to reflect on another source of emptiness she felt in her life. Her mother never really spoke much of her father. Besides the fact he went working on a ship and had an affinity for poetry ,which seemed an odd combination, she didn't know him. Meg walked to her bed and crawled in, dragging the covers to her chin before blowing the thoughts away as she blew out her candle. Sleep sounded wonderful but it wasn't likely to come very quickly though with the conflicting thoughts and emotions that sped through her.


	3. Chapter 3

Nicolas sat in the parlor of the family Tudor style home staring into his tumbler of brandy. He had been eager to be home from schooling, then as per the norm, a brief stint in military training. He had to admit he hadn't expected his father to propose almost the moment he got home was to go to the opera. Had he been more tired and less inclined to have a good time after years of so much seriousness he would have turned it down flat. And the very last thing he thought would happen was that he'd meet the woman he knew he was destined to be with.

"It is a pretty color but it's best just to drink your brandy, son. Or are your thoughts focused on a certain blonde?" the old man chortled. "Ye think I'm blind but I still have eyes. She's a vision, is she not?"

"You have almost a supernatural ability to see my thoughts father. It is truly a terrifying thought," he jokes back. "Actually yes, I was thinking of her. She was very proper. I didn't think I would like her. When she came she looked - well she looked stunning but -"

"A bit reticent?"

"I don't know. Shy, yes but at the same time like she wasn't sure she wanted to be there. She looked so funny when she watched you. Almost wistful. But when she laughed and opened up…she sparkled. From what little she said I'd bet she was smart."

"Oh she's only a ballet girl. How smart can she be? And don't get fussy, my boy, I'm only teasing. Don't you think your too young to fall in love. And so quick?" He said with half hearted sigh.

"I wasn't aware that 29 was too young."

"God are you really? You're an old man! Side point, you do know she was there when the whole fiasco happened a couple years ago. I bet she'd know all about it." "You didn't ask the managers? Father I'm surprised."

"No, I heard some from the little girls begging for stories and the managers didn't seem pleased at all. And that Madame Giry! She gave a look that would have sunk a ship! Ask her daughter. It would take some doing, but take it as a challenge. Get on her good side- more. Go tomorrow!" said the old man. He probably still would have said that if he had known his son would have taken him up on that suggestion.

MEG TRUDGED back to her dressing room. She felt like hell and she was pretty certain she looked it too. A night of little sleep made the day of helping her mother with the new little girls doubly exhausting. There was something in Nicolas's eyes that almost frightened her yesterday. She liked him. She told herself she could be his friend but she couldn't do anything more. It felt like cheating on Erik. Which just irked her more, when she considered that he never thought of her that way.

On making her room, she immediately tossed off her dress and unfastened her corset and laid flat on her stomach on the sofa in the room with a loud groan. SLEEP. That's all she wanted, and right now. Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen for in stepped her mother.

"Meg! What if the managers had stepped in here! Your barely covered!"

Meg mumbled through the cushion something entirely inappropriate and completely unintelligible as she pulled the robe from the back of the sofa over her and slipped it on.

"I didn't sleep well last night, mother, can I just rest a few minutes then I want to go home."

There was a flurried knock and a young girl came in all smiles. "Meg, someone's here to see you!" She said in an annoying singsong voice. "He didn't stay away long did he Madame!"

Madame had the tact not to make assumptions, at least out loud, about who had caused the lack of sleep. But by the sudden paleness in her daughter's cheek she thought she had guessed right. Even if she couldn't understand why she turned white instead of blushing.

"You can't keep him waiting. Dress quickly and I will stall a moment or two" her mother announced with a triumphant smile and dashed out the door.

"Well this isn't good…" Meg said to herself, suddenly scared that she was right, that this man had already started falling. She rushed to the wardrobe and pulled on the most dowdy thing she could find. She had forgotten to put on her corset, and really she didn't have much time to fuss with it. She stood in front of tall mirror and inspected her look. She groaned in frustration that even under such an ugly dress and without proper undergarments her figure still stood out too much.

A wicked little smile curled her lips and she mussed up her hair even worse than before and rubbed her eyes to make them redder. If I can keep his attention up on my face maybe this look will do the trick and scare him off. She stood back and inspected herself again. "Oh that's truly hideous!" she said with a pleased and mischievous grin.

Another knock sounded at the door and her mother entered, Nicholas in tow. "Marguerite Elizabeth Giry…." Her mother didn't get much further and Nicholas laughed greatly amused.

"Seems Miss Meg is not herself today! You look horrific Meg, Don't you sleep?" he smiled good naturedly, walking forward and extending his hand.

Meg blushed and extended her hand, shaking his. "Usually. And I was going to before we heard you had come. Thank you for the honor of your visit. Is there something you needed to see me about?"

"Nothing in particular. Just a friendly visit." He felt suddenly shy and foolish for coming. He played with the brim of his hat and for a while seemed like he didn't know what to say. It wasn't that Nicholas didn't have experience with women. Experience he had. He'd just never courted a girl. Not really. "I- well I thought I'd grab a bite to eat with you and talk a while. But you really do look tired. It can wait."

His sudden turn from confident and smiles to the flustering man made her heart sink. She hated guilt, especially feeling it. She clung to the term he had used, friendly visit. Surely she could be friends. She had told herself that last night.

"That does sound very nice. Later would be better. Perhaps after she rests she can get some coffee with you." her mother cut in.

"O-oh yes that would work. I would be glad to join you," Meg assented.

The look on his face as he bowed and walked out told her what he was hoping. She felt strange. She knew she didn't want him like that but at the same time she felt a flutter of excitement. Then it turned her stomach to knots and she wondered why. Erik….

THAT ACCEPTANCE for drinks was a turning point for all of them. Erik wondered at his self control when he happened to come behind the mirror to find Meg practically undressed and trying to sleep. And he was proud of the fact that for that moment he hadn't intentionally been stalking. It took all his self-control not to look as she quickly dressed. Then more not to laugh when she stood in front of the mirror making such a mess of herself. How well he remembered that mischievous look. He smiles at the revelation of another memory.

Again he doesn't remember what he'd been talking about with Antoinette when Meg comes in, half angry and half in tears. She must have been about 12. But he remembers her going to her girl and sitting her down plying her with questions.

"They all tease me! The girls do, because I'm not-" she had stopped and looked at him and he could tell by the look on her face that she was going to say something that her mother would wish she hadn't. "Because I'm not developing. Mother when I am 15 I just know I'll still be flat chested. What a horrid thing! I'll be a lonely old maid who looks sadly like a little boy because I don't have breasts."

Erik felt a little uncomfortable at this turn in the topic but couldn't suppress a grin at the girl's bold declaration in front of him.

"Oh, Meg, that won't happen. How can you speak such nonsense?"

God , the look on her face, just like now, that little grin that told she was going to get smart. "I would think speaking nonsense would be a lot better than listening to it."

Erik had laughed heartily at that. He laughed even harder when Antoinette swatted him and blamed him for encouraging her. Even so young she had a very quick wit and he thoroughly enjoyed it the few times he'd been at their home.

Now this was happening. Her going threw him off. He knew he'd lose someone he never really had.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Hippolytus and Aricia was the first opera Jean-Phillipe Rameau, presented in 5 acts, that premiered at the Palais-Royal in Paris October 1, 1733. Hippolytus is the son of Theseus King of Athens and is in love with Aricia, the daughter of his father's enemy. The couple are protected by the goddess Dianna.

Meg arrived next morning ready to begin rehearsals for Hippolytus and Aricia, already changing into her tights and chiffon ballet skirt when a few of the other girls came in. Immediately she was accosted with questions as to how her date went. She maintained that it wasn't a date but that the evening had gone very well and she was glad to make a new friend.

"It was nice. We talked of books and where he's been and the things he's seen. But it wasn't a date. Just a friendly visit." she said.

"He obviously wants to be more than a friend. You should go for it. It's not like you got someone else waiting." She didn't know which said it, but it didn't matter. She still couldn't bring herself to let herself want someone else.

The rehearsals were rough. Already upset from the comment earlier, she was in no mood to deal with the new Diva's mincing words and superior airs and very quickly gave her a long and intense smart-mouthed rant when she started in. She didn't want to think where it would have ended if the managers hadn't stopped them and started the rehearsals. Meg was glad to only have a role as chorus girl. She could lose herself in dancing and never miss a beat and, after the comment made, she felt she sorely needed it. She went through the performance in a complete state of bliss, letting her imagination run where it would. After the grueling hours of practice, she rushed to change then sneaked down to her refuge. The placed felt more like home than any other place now and she knew every room by heart.

Erik took some comfort that so far she didn't upset her time to come down here and smiled as she sat at the organ and talked to the mask.

"Well I made a friend. I'm not sure how I feel about that. He's nice- well traveled and - well his taste in books could use some refinement. But I suppose his preference for gothic novels and comedies is what makes him more likable. Not pretentious. You'd not hate him but I don't think you would much care for him either. ..god this feels so strange, I can't even talk to a mask about him. Doesn't feel quite right. Well we'll just skip that altogether."

Her eyes, more sad that usual, scanned the room and fell on the wind up monkey and a slight smile touched her face. She crossed the room and wound it up, then replaced it quickly before getting into position. He watched as she danced, almost mechanical but elegant in her movements. As the music wound down, she smiled to herself as she kept her legs in Croise Devant position, hinging forward from her hips as if she were the wind up toy. The effect was simple but dazzling. She could almost believe he would come up behind her and pull her to him.

Ironic that he should be having the same daydream. . She was art. Every movement precise and perfect. Graceful, glowing, beautiful. He wanted to smooth his palms over the peaks and valleys of her body, learn her shape, feel the texture of her skin. He wanted to tighten his arms around her and taste her skin where her neck and shoulders met.

He wanted to act on that impulse but fear of being rejected kept him firmly in his spot. Memories of her screaming when Christine had pulled the mask from him cut in and he felt a deep depression, wondering how she could have gone to the little girl who had tried to kiss away his pain to the young lady who was terrified to look at him. Pain and fear can blind even the most brilliant to the obvious. But he hadn't reached that revelation yet. Nor did he at the moment realize that in his fantasy she was pliant and willing, but when it came to actually approaching he saw her as one who'd reject. When he had shaken himself out of his brooding she was gone and couldn't say how long it was she left.

WEEKS PASSED and so far things were nearly the same. Meg came and went but not as often. But then they were coming upon the holidays and she would be busy. Everyone was. She had spent more time with Nicholas, having more fun and liking him more than she cared to admit.

She was just coming down the grand staircase going home with her mother when he came in a big smile on his face. "Merry Christmas!" he called.

She couldn't help but smile, falling into the easy familiar conversations they had gotten use to. "It's Thanksgiving you ninny. Isn't it a bit early to be drinking? What brings you here?"

He stood shaking the snow from his coat and pulled off his hat. "It looks more like Christmas to me. And we don't normally get snow. Besides Thanksgiving isn't for another week. Anyway, we're having a party for friends before the actual holiday and I wanted to invite you." He dipped his hand back into his pocket and brought forth a silver foil engraved card.

Meg felt her stomach do flip-flops, considering what accepting could mean. "I am flattered, Nic, but I don't know if I would fit in…It's tonight?!" Her eyes flew up from the card to his smiling eyes. Last minute invitation, okay doesn't sound like a romantic gesture.

"You'll fit perfectly. AND," he said in an annoyingly wheedling tone, "it can count as my Christmas present. It's just going to be dinner, drinks, and dancing. Please come. I can send a carriage to get you."

"Honestly you don't leave me much time. Thank you, I accept. I'll be ready around eight," she said flicking him with the card with a smile. "Lucky for you I don't have any plans. See you tonight."

Meg and her mother got home and Meg immediately attacked her closet. Her mother came in to help, pulling out a beautiful Loden green coat dress.

"It's beautiful," said Meg, gingerly tracing her fingers along the embroidered bodice." Don't you think that I'll get too hot in that?"

"I can't imagine it would be so large a crowd that you'd get so hot. Besides, you want to dress properly, it was a formal invitation. And this dress- well you'll be the most beautiful woman there. Now go dress and I'll put your hair up."

Meg went and washed up, coming out later running her hands down the side of the dress that was hugging her. She liked the way it seemed to cling and drape at the right places. Her imagination fashioned for her a large room and she smiled to herself picturing the appreciative glances she'd get. She took a seat and helped her mother as she curled her hair and pinned it up, tucking sprigs of baby's breath in her hair. The closer it came to leave the more her heart pounded, from fear or excitement she couldn't tell. Which only unsettled her more. She'd rather not be excited, but so it was. She had just finished dressing when the carriage arrived.

I wonder if Erik saw the irony in the fact that he was brought back around full circle. At the opera, watching someone from a distance he wanted. He knew if he didn't want to end the way it had before he had to see her and talk to her. At least try. He debated with himself and finally settled to go. He turned the corner to see her stepping into the carriage, a lovelier sight he was sure there would never be. Too late. If she came tomorrow, no matter what, he'd show himself to her. Get to know just what she wanted and see if he cold have a chance.

The party was rather larger than Nicholas had led her to believe. Everyone was charming and kind, the food was savory and delicious and the music was lively. Meg was thoroughly enjoying herself, dancing most dances with the young man of the house. It would have been a perfect night, had it not been for the twinge of guilt she couldn't keep herself from feeling. How many times she had blushed in spite of herself for his attentions she didn't know, but it felt wonderful to have someone who didn't hide that they cared. But finally the press of the crowd and the heat wore her down, and she welcomed his arm as he offered it.

"I think I really need some water and to get to a seat."

"Mm, come with me, I'll take you to the right spot," he withdrew her arm and pressed the small of her back guiding her through the crowd, handing her a glass of water as they passed a table to the door of the balcony. The feeling of his hand was warm and comforting, the blast of snowy air jolting the rest of her senses wide awake.

I don't know which is better, the heat or the cold." she said giggling. "But I needed the air, it feels nice."

Nic watched as she pushed her head forward into the wind, heart melting as the wind stung her cheeks pink and tugged curls loose. He took her by the waist and brought her against the wall, out of sight from the large glass doors.

"If I don't do this now, I'll never pluck up the courage. You're the only woman I know who's ever made me feel flustered. I love you Meg." He lifted his head up and she followed his gaze. "Mistletoe, now you must kiss me."

Meg's heart raced so fast she couldn't think, and it took her a minute to gather her thoughts. "I-I thought that was just at Christmas," she blushed and stammered out, "but it's nice to see you managed to put one up since our talk this morning."

"I'm pretty sure it is the rule year round," he grinned pulling her close, nuzzling to her cheek. "Please, Meg, I beg you."

The feel of his skin and the pleading tone tore through her and she looked up in his eyes. Slowly she drew her arms around his shoulders and tilted her head, her lips brushing his. She felt him shiver at the contact and he teased and smoothed kisses over her lips before drawing it deeper. He felt her body relent and relax into him, her mouth shyly exploring his. Meg's senses reeled, as well as his. She had the sudden realization she was falling and that he'd catch her. It was the most complete she'd felt in so long, she hoped it would keep going.

Later that night Meg sat undoing her hair, and she could still feel the warmth of his mouth on hers. It was a wonderful sensation but it wasn't exactly as she wanted it. In her dreams her first everything was Erik. She admitted that she was starting to love this man. But it couldn't ever be the same. Had she betrayed Erik? Why should she feel that way, it's not like he wasted time on her since Christine. He could never look at her that way and never would. But she wanted him, she loved him more than anything in the world and it killed her that she wouldn't ever know his love in return. The night, the kiss, the sweetness of it and the desperation of heart kept her wide awake to almost dawn. But she had come to a decision. She knew what she'd have to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Rose Colored Glasses is actually a song that came out in 1978. And while it's not historically accurate, Meg strikes me as the kind of girl that, yes, while sassy, tends to see things in the best possible light. Further this was one of my father's favorite song. So kind of a tribute.

After rehearsals next day, Meg walked with purpose down to the lair, cradling a little box in hand. Erik was in his spot watching as she entered, ready to come out. There was such a look on her face he couldn't place that quickly gave way to confusion and something else. Guilt? For one gut wrenching moment he wondered just how far things had got with the young Baron. At the moment it didn't matter and he didn't care. She was here.

She didn't notice That Erik had replaced his own score on the organ with the Lover's scene from Romeo and Juliet. Given the circumstances he found it hard to tell which would be her Romeo. Meg sat at the bench and laid her little box down, opened the lid and pulled out some sheets of paper. As she reached for the pen she took a slow look around, tears welling in her eyes, then turned to her paper and wrote, what he didn't know. She did this for several minutes when a choked sob broke from her mouth and she fought to gain composure. It cut him through to see her cry so, even more to see her pale and calm and the tears freely falling. He knew he should step out now but sheer curiosity kept him planted. He wondered if he'd ever see what she was writing.

Meg finished in a few minutes and while she let the ink dry she let her fingers play over the keys, playing what sounded almost like a waltz but clearly very sad. She then carefully put the sheets in the box under several other sheets. She then took up the mask and nestled her cheek to it before placing several soft kisses on it before laying it on the box on the organ. She's torn! Could she really love me? He watched as she slowly rose and stepped in front of the mirror, the very one he was hiding behind. She groaned as she surveyed herself, fingers tracing her puffy eyes and over her cheeks, which she pinched slight bringing a rosy hue to them.

"On with the show" She said to herself in a eerily reckless manner that almost brought Erik out at once. He was alone but he swore it wouldn't be for long. He'd see what she wrote and go to her immediately. Damn my curiosity. Enough excuses Erik, just go! Now! She's leaving! She was gone…Erik came out at once and hurried to the organ tearing open the lid to the box. Inside he found several scraps and full length stationery with notes and letters inside. He withdrew the first one and read the scrawling childlike writing. It was as follows:

I remember the story you told me about the soul butterfly. And every night I wonder if mine will find you. I never knew for sure if it had. But this morning I woke up happy so I think it must have finally found you.

Love,

Your Little Meg.

It couldn't have been long after he had told her the story. Erik warmed at such a little token from the little child he once held. It was a shame she never had her mother send it to him. He took out the next one. Two actually. One was folded with the other. The writing flowing and elegant. It was a poem that Meg had written out long hand and it was as follows:

The Builders

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these; Leave no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, where Gods may dwell, Beautiful, entire, and clean.

Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb.

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky.

Erik quickly opened the folded sheet with it and read:

My Dearest Erik,

Tonight did not go so much as how I had planned. It had been so longs since I had seen you. When I came across these words my mind swarmed with thoughts of you, which if you only knew how often that is, it would shock you. You pulled away when I took your hand as I was reading this. Erik, you seem so determined to not see that there is someone who cares for you and loves you. I hope that one day you will open your eyes and see me.

Always yours,

Marguerite Giry

Erik vividly remembered that evening. He'd come in to discuss some business with Madame, but of course he couldn't remember what now. She had been out and he'd sat down to wait when he Meg had come in.

"You have kept yourself away for far too long, Erik." The unexpected presence made him jump and turn toward her. The sight of her had almost shocked him. It was like she'd blossomed overnight. Though he knew that wasn't right. He'd just not seen her in months. She had stepped in smiling brightly.

"I apologize for the absence, Miss Giry. Your looking well." God how uncomfortable he felt. It was then he started wearing the mask around her again.

For the moment she seemed to have let it slide. She had such a arch, playful look as she stood there. "Miss Giry, is it? Well I am glad to see you showing the respect I deserve!"

She'd hardly uttered the words before the smile broadened and she rushed across the room like a child done playing grown-up to hug him. She had insisted that he sit and wait for mother. Looking flushed and flustered as she announced that she had something to show him. Her voice never faltered as she read, or as she took his hand and he remembered how warm she felt. Looking back he could see how obvious it was that she had a crush on him. More than that she loved him and still did. He dug into the bottom of the box and took out the sheets she had just put in. It read as follows:

I don't know why I keep on believing you need me  
When you prove so many times that it isn't true.  
And I can't find one good reason for staying  
Maybe by leaving would be the best for you.  
But these rose colored glasses, that I'm looking through  
Show only the beauty, cause they hide all the truth  
And they let me hold on to the good times, the good lines  
The ones I used to hear when I held you (Here was where the ink suddenly jolted and he could tell this was where she had suddenly sobbed while writing)  
And they keep me from feeling so cheated, defeated  
When reflections in your eyes show me a fool  
These rose colored glasses, that I'm looking through  
Show only the beauty, cause they hide all the truth  
So I just keep on hope-in, believing that maybe  
By counting the many times I've tried  
You'll believe me when I say I love you and  
I'll lay these rose colored glasses aside  
These rose colored glasses, that I'm looking through  
Show only the beauty, cause they hide all the truth

My Dearest Erik,

I suppose this is the last time, even in letter, that I shall refer to you as my dearest. But then, even now I feel that you are the person I love most. But I think it is time to put my rose colored glasses aside and see life as it is. While I love you and always will, I must come to terms with the fact that you never have nor will look at me with the same eyes you did Christine. And that's okay. If she had stayed and you were happy with her this would probably be easier to bear. But she didn't. Your not here. You all left me. And while I will always love you, I think it's time I find my happiness in someone else before the pain finally becomes too much. Nicolas loves me I know. And I do him. But if by chance these ever fall in your hands, as I hope they will, I am leaving them here for you, I want you to know that what I feel for him will never compare to the love I have felt for you since I was so young. No matter where I go or what I do or who I end up with, you will always be who I measure everyone against. I love you, Erik. Goodbye.

Margeurite G.

Erik felt that his heart was about to explode. He'd been so foolish to hide from someone who always made him feel like he wasn't so abhorrent. And now she was about to give her love away to someone else! The only clear thought he had as he rushed out of the room and up to the opera was that he had to stop her. She had to know he loved her too.


	6. Chapter 6

Erik made his way up to the opera house as quickly as he could. He knew he hadn't spent much time reading the notes after she left, but he was filled with a dread of not finding her in time. When he found her she was just coming across the empty stage, Nicolas already there. He stood looking down on her from box 5, wondering how she didn't see him. The boy he wasn't concerned about, his back was to him.

Nicolas reached out and stroked a tear from her cheek. Meg looked up and forces a smile before stepping back out of reach. "I'm well. It's just- well I am a woman and we tend to get emotional. Shall I play for you?" And down she jumped into the orchestra pit.

Meg sped through a lively little tune, privately hoping it would lift her spirits enough to seem like things were okay. It worked- only a little.

"Your mother says you throw yourself heart and soul into whatever it is you do. Explains your talent. But Meg, my darling," he said taking her hand and helping her back up to the stage and pulling her close, " I'd rather you throw yourself heart and soul into us. Let me make you happy, I know I can."

Meg looked up in his eyes and gave him an arch, playful smile. "Just had our first kiss and all ready for the next step?"

"I'm serious Meg. I love you. And I know you like me. You do don't you?"

Meg gave a bashful nod. Erik couldn't hear most of what was being said and wondered how on Earth she hadn't seen him yet, but what was more painful was to see this young man take Meg into his arms and seeing her chest heave with shallow breath as she tried to steady herself.

"Let me love you then and let yourself love me."

A shiver ran down her spine as he kissed a trail across her cheek, forcing herself to not imagine Erik. Another tear fell as she tilted her head back, waiting for his mouth to brush hers. At the same moment Erik finally leaned forward from the box and her eyes fixed on him. She gave such a violent start that she landed well outside his grasp.

"Nicolas I-I'm sorry.. I can't. Please just- I can't explain. I have to go!"

And with that she took off running. The poor lad was too shocked and confused and by the time his wits caught up with him Meg was gone. Erik watched him leave from the shadows in his old box. The door opens and slams so suddenly that for a moment he wishes he could run too. The latch clicked in place.

"How long have you been here Erik?" He could hear the tremble in her voice, the fight she was having with herself not to cry.

"I saw the whole display. He seemed a decent fellow, why did you cast him off?" He hated how puerile that came out. He wanted her to know he cared, not to think him childish.

"I said how long, Erik," she quietly demanded, though sensing the truth.

"Several months."

Meg clasped her hands over her mouth, near choking on sobs, her tears falling unheeded. Unaware of what she was doing she lifted herself from the door and took several hurried steps toward him. She collided with his chest, her face pressed to his shirt, her fingers latching into his shirt. She clung to him, needing the connection to him. her head reeling as she processed and pieced together what had happened. Erik slowly wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her back.

"I wasn't dreaming…"

"No, I had been there watching."

There was a long paused, and Meg fought to calm down. There was something wonderfully comforting about being held by him and feeling his breath on her hair.

"B-but why!? Why did you wait, why didn't you want me to know?"

Erik hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head up. He had no idea how to reply to that, how to express his fear of rejection. The only thing he wanted to do was to show he loved her.

"I'm sorry…" What else could he say? He could do one thing, though and he swore he would waste no time. He lowered his lips to hers and they had just brushed when a knock sounded at the door.

"Meg, I don't - from the little you told me about this man I gather that you had loved him at one time. And I know it hurt to lose him. And I know it may feel like this is all moving very fast. But he's gone, sweetheart. I'm here. And I'll still be here. When you are willing to admit that and if you still love me, just know that I'll be waiting for you. I love you, Meg."

Meg went from pain to joy to complete sickness at herself. What a botch she made of it. And while she was overjoyed that Erik was back, that she had felt his lips, her heart broke at the thought of having to hurt someone who was truly a kind and gentle and loving man. She'd have to hurt someone she loved, unequally, but loved nonetheless. She heard the footfalls leave the halls and stood groaning against Erik's chest.

"I'm going to have to hurt him."

"He's young and will recover. I do pity the poor boy, though."

It crossed Meg's mind that she should be mad. She was mad and probably the only woman who would dare shoot him a glare or even think of raising her hand to him. She barely restrained herself, and in the dim light he saw the defiance and anger in her eyes belied by fresh tears. She knew his fears even if he wouldn't speak them and quickly figured out what brought about this sudden appearance. She knew he had to have known she had some level of affection for him. How he could have blinded himself to it was what stung. And now poor Nicolas was going to be hurt.

"If I knew you had really been here I wouldn't have to put him through what's going to happen. You came because you read the notes didn't you." She made it more of a statement that a question. "Why should those letters affect you so now, when you've barely seen me since I was 15?"

"Mon belle ange, I think you know why. But maybe not the depth of that reason. It's never easy to see someone you know you will never be able to have. Not that it makes sense. I can see in your eyes you have your argument ready. I did want you, I just didn't think you could want me."

"Are we referencing the present or does this include when I was 15, because none of that seemed to matter when-" she squelched that missile very quickly, regretting her unuttered words. She was angry and hurt but she didn't want to turn it into a fight. She didn't want him to hurt by her. By the tense silence she knew he was fighting his own anger. "I'm sorry, Erik. That was callous of me. You're here and it's what I have wanted for two years and I'm going to ruin it."

" Your hurt. I hurt you too. We both have reason to feel regret. But I wont let it stop me. You have always shown your heart. I want that heart but doubted after everything that happened that I deserved it, caring though you have always been to me whether you would love me. And those letters, sweet thing, were the most touching and beautiful things I have seen. I love you, Meg, as you love me. Now, repare yourself, I'm going to finish what I started."

He tightened his arms around her and he could feel the shiver run down her spine. He could feel her fingers loosen and stroke the back of his shirt then grip again and could almost feel her heart beat against his as she tiptoed to raise herself. She could feel herself blush more the closer he got. Was time really suppose to feel so slow? They felt that warm brush of lips and breath, tentatively testing each other before sinking themselves in a warm, soft, deep kiss. This was bliss. And neither was ever going to relinquish it.


	7. Chapter 7

WARNING: Steamy sex scene coming up. If your underage, quit reading now!

A hard lesson is that happiness is never really complete. There's always something to temper it and keep it in check, at the very least. Meg found this truth early in life and knew that what she had with Erik was going to experience the same thing. Her dampener was her mother. She was deeply incensed when she found that Meg had all but rejected Nicolas. For lack of any better punishment, not that it really deserved it, she drove her daughter harder in her routines and left her almost too exhausted. Her other was the dread of seeing Nicolas again too soon and having to break his heart. The first did not impede her in her determination in going down every chance she had to see Erik and spend the evening talking to him, holding him and thrilling at each kiss, though mostly she would sit and Erik would hold her as she rested. But even that was wonderful. She was fortunate though that Nicolas had not shown, though she expected it every day and the thought of hurting a good man made her sick with herself. Meg grew quite pale during this brief period and her mother deeply believed that her girl was regretting her fears of a relationship with the young Baron. He, poor man, was having his own time of it. He hurt, then turned angry that she could pass over someone who loved her for a mere dream and determined that Meg would have to be he one to come to him.

Erik felt the weight on her and felt for her. He gathered enough of what Nicolas had said outside his box that Meg had spoken about him. And as displeased by that as he was, he couldn't feel very bad. She must have said something to give him the impression that Meg was in love with someone else, him actually, and that was enough to make him feel very magnanimous. He wanted to know what it was she had said and he didn't have to really say much, just the smallest allusion to it and she told how Nicolas figured out that Meg knew Erik, how she had told him only a few times when Erik had come to their home. Erik told her of his mother, Luciana and his life in Persia and about the Daroga. She was at his side on the divan, her legs thrown over his knees, her head on his shoulder. Her eyes bright as she talked to him and caressing the pain away, or her sleepy mumbles as she tried to. It was just as sweet. He liked the feel of her against him, so sweet and innocent. Both dreading the moment she had to go.

Time passed on in this manner. Thanksgiving passed and the first week of December. The whole of the troupe were preparing for the last shows of the season before another holiday closed the place up. During rehearsals Meg had another altercation with the new diva and stormed off to her room to cool down. Erik was sitting in the dark dressing room waiting for her when the door flew open and he heard the woman yelling down the hall something he couldn't quite catch. Meg leaned from the door and yelled, "I do NOT think you're a complete idiot! There are some pieces missing!" and slammed the door shut. She was caught off guard by the quiet laughter and the arms that wrapped around her shoulder, and for one moment she thought it was Nicolas.

"I swear Miss Giry, your tongue is quite sharp!"

Meg breathed a deep sigh and leaned back. "Well, a sharp tongue means you have a quick wit. How did you get in here?"

"You know I have my ways. Recall I was called a trap door lover." Now is not the time to mention the mirror, he thought. This brought a recent memory that made it hard to stay close without some compromising reaction. "You did wonderful out there. I'll be watching when you perform it."

"Your going already?" She said with obvious disappointment.

"Your mother will probably be here soon, and to own truth I'm not too keen on her finding me in your room and you in my arms. Not yet anyway. Now remember, I'll be watching."

"Then I will do my best for you. But I am still nervous."She wondered how many of her performances he had seen, where he had watched her and not Christine. But, true to his word he had. The night of the show, on returning to her room she found a small bouquet of wild roses, pink, and a little note. You make me think of a wild rose. Beautiful and untamed and you grow where you want. What a blessing to know you chose to grow around me. Your beautiful and talented. You dance from your soul. I'm very proud of you, and I wait for you. -Erik

She felt giddy and near tears. Never had anyone sent her flowers and to get them from Erik was special. She tucked the small bunch of flowers into a little basin and opened the vanity drawer dropping in the card when she heard a knock, and, without thinking, called them to enter.

"Good Evening, Miss Giry." Nicolas. His voice was cool and formal but a bit embarrassed. Meg turned to face him and felt like she could die on the spot.

"Nicolas, I- do come in." He did as bidden and they sat there in such a strained awkward silence that Meg was almost desperate enough to run from the room. How could she hurt such a wonderful man? Where would she even start her explanation?

She had such a tender, woeful look that it would have given Nicolas a glimmer of hope, if not for her silence. He reached and took her hand and gave it a gentle brief kiss. He hated himself for giving in. She hated herself for not telling him then. It was all such a muddled mess.

"I just came by to tell you I enjoyed your performance, I can't stay." And with that he got up and left.

She changed and waited for the theater to clear, expecting to see her mother walk in at any minute. She never showed, and not wanting to waste the chance she rushed down to see Erik.

"That boy might just end in an accident," said Erik, the dark tone sending a chill through Meg. "Why didn't you just tell him? And you let him kiss you!"

"Don't say such things Erik. Please. I was caught off guard, that's all."

"You should have told him!" The speed at which he approached her and the look in his eyes nearly terrified her out of her wits. It was too similar to the events of before. She didn't want things to happen the way they did with her. He actually threatened! It terrified and angered her at the same time. Slowly she raised her head and leveled a gaze at him.

"Well if you can think of a way I can break his heart and tell him I'm leaving him for a wanted man that has just made his reappearance then by all means tell me how to do it Erik. How can you stand there and threaten to hurt him when you know I love you! YOU! I cannot tell him or anyone you're here, I can't let the world see how happy I am, because it would put you in danger. I'd shame the world for treating you the way it has, show them just how much I love you, and your angry with me? Why are you laughing?" Meg stomped and balled her fists at her side, noticing the amused smile on Erik's face, which soon erupted into laughter. "Stop laughing! I know it sounds childish and overly romantic but I mean it! I would! Erik wipe that smile off your face this instant!"

Erik laughed all the more and gathered her in his arms, adoring that little bit of childishness. "It must be so difficult to have to deal with a silly old man like me," he said through his laughter.

Meg turned her head to the side and looked down, hiding her smile. "Well, as long as you can admit it…"

He laughed again and Meg looked up, her face one of a kid who got exactly what they wanted. Erik groaned and smiled, giving her a little squeeze. "Marry me."

Meg's eyes went wide and she stood back, staring and studying him. The words did take even him by surprise, but once he'd said it, he couldn't say he wanted to take it back. He looked down at her and smiled. "I mean it. Marry me."

She simply smiled and nodded but her eyes spoke so much. He gathered her to him again and kissed her. Soft and slow and it built. All he could think of was how warm and wet her mouth was, how inviting, how she was his. Suddenly he felt her tense and heard her little gasp. He relinquished the kiss and he could feel himself pressed against her tummy. Had he pulled her this close, or did she step into him? Or maybe both.

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. It was amazing. Wide-eyed wonder of an innocent girl but there was also the passion of a woman. She didn't say anything, she just slowly pulled away and headed to the bedroom. Stunned, he just stood there a moment thinking of what this meant before following her. When he entered she was lighting candles that were scattered around the bed and the room.

"N-no, Meg, you don't have to."

"But I want to. Please, I know I want this."

"Blow out the candles. Please, it-it has to be dark."

She smiled and lit a few more, waving the little flame out on the lighter before approaching. Meg blushed and smiled, reached up and removed the mask.

"I want to see the man I love, all of him," her fingers shook as she loosened the cravat on his shirt, "and I want him to see me."

Erik nodded and nestled her face in his hands. He knew it was a gift that she was giving him, the freedom to be so intimate and not feel the need to hide it. But he was so nervous, just as nervous as she was.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, planting little kisses along his deformed cheek and locked her lips with his. A shiver ran down her back as he locked her body to his and his tongue darted past her lips. He ran his hands down her arms and back up her sides, settling them on her back, just above her shoulder blades. A little moan escaped as he deepened the kiss, their tongues battling each other, and his wonderful, strong hands slowly unlaced her dress.

Meg pressed her hips forward, almost by instinct, and brought her hands down his chest. She loved to feel his body react to her touch, the pressure of his kiss and the feel of him against her increase as she opened his shirt and pushed it down his shoulders. He only leg go long enough to finish slipping it off and returned to her lacings. Erik took his time trailing kisses over her shoulder as he peeled off the dress bit by bit, then stood watching as it hit the floor.

Meg felt exposed and liberated at the same time, watching as his eyes raked over her body. When he gripped her hips and turned her back to him and tugged her close, her mind reeled, gasping when his hands traveled down the front of her corset and lingers over the elastic straps of her garter belts. He relished that she didn't wear her camisole, the thin fabric that covered her and the stockings held in place by the buckles. She sighed as his hand unfastened one then moved to her inner thigh, unfastening that as well. He wanted to explore her and let his fingers enjoy her wet and eager body, keep her focused on how she felt. How would she react? He finished removing the garters, leaving the stockings, and slowly, one by one, unhooked her corset. This too he disposed of and lightly ran his hands over her chest.

Meg felt like her whole body was blushing. She tried to reach between them, shocking herself by her boldness, to try to find the button of his trousers. Erik gently tugged her hands away and scooped her up and set her on the bed, standing before her and peeled off the remainder of his clothes. He saw with some amusement that her eyes widened when she saw his uncovered form. She couldn't tear her eyes away. And she anxiously wondered if her body could take it. She had never seen a man like this but she doubted many were so - well big. She got to her knees and cupped her hand behind his neck, locking her lips to his, trembling with excitement to feel him hard against her. Erik savored the kiss then slowly laid her back, slipping his dexterous fingers into the thin fabric and pulled them off. He ran his hands up her legs, feeling the silk of her stockings. Those he wanted to leave.

He settled himself over her, pressing against her opening as he tasted her lips. Meg hooked her feet over his calves and pressed her hands to his back. He took the hint and pressed forward. She was impossibly, wonderfully tight. She reached up and grabbed his shoulders, her intake of breath becoming a little scream and her body went rigid. He hushed and kissed her, urging her to breath. He kept still till she relaxed and pushed forward again, quickly sheathing himself in her. Meg hid her face in his neck, trembling and fighting for breath. Erik waited, still, until he felt her relax again. He snaked an arm under her hip and pulled her up, her body meeting each slow thrust. Meg gasped and panted with each collision, quickly learning his pace, rocking her hips up. Erik looked down at her, in awe of the innocent wonder and the lust that lurked in her eyes. It was all he could do to not lose control right there. Meg craned her neck side to side and he realized she was trying to see. The thought caused him to jerk deep inside and he propped his hands on either side of her head and lifted. Both their eyes wandered down each other's body to where they met. Meg moaned as she watched. It was so erotic and beautiful. She tugged him down and kissed him greedily, delighting in his mouth, his hands over her breasts. He broke away and trailed kisses down her neck, licking the curve of her breast. Meg's head went back and her moans became louder, echoing in the chamber. Erik could resist no longer and closed his mouth over her, and suckled. He felt her stiffen and her hands grip his shoulders but it felt different. He looked up to see a moment's look of fear that she was fighting, a look in her eyes that was like she was somewhere else. He rose to kiss her but she pushed him back down.

"P-please…it's- just- do it again…"

Meg kept her eyes on him as his mouth claimed her again. She focused on him. How he felt in her, on her, and how she felt knowing he had her in his mouth. A breathy moan parted her lips and she let herself go. He wondered what he had done to frighten her but her eagerness for him pushed it from his mind. He moved from one to the other, lavishing attention on her. She wound her legs around his waist, pushing faster. The sensation was so wonderful, the silk rubbing his skin, her whole body warm and wet, the taste of her, he let out a deep growling moan. Meg felt something come apart inside and she screamed as he body took over and bucked wildly, wild waves of pleasure rippling through her. She knew what happened, and she loved that it came so unexpectedly. She loved him.

Erik contained himself and kept the pace, shifting his weight to his forearms. She whimpered and pouted, and pulled him back. "I like your weight on me. Stay, god please stay!" He readily acquiesced. Every touch and kiss and sigh pushed them both closer and closer. There were few words, just the sensation and time meant nothing. It felt like it would never end. Erik ran his hand over one leg and unwound it from his waist. He ached to see how he would feel with her draped over him. Erik quickly rolled over and settled her hips over him, grunting as he pushed himself up. Meg cried out and her skin blanched. He was so deep. Too deep and he was so big. Her fevered thoughts shattered and her body felt like it was falling into a large void. How could her hips move as if by their own accord?

"Meg…" Erik's voice, that beautiful, sonorous voice was the only thing keeping her tethered to Earth. She slowly opened her eyes and tried to focus. "M-meg.. Tell me. How does it feel?"

He brought her shoulders down and brushed kisses over her lips. She couldn't talk. He wanted to hear her and if that voice that was going to be her undoing, she would try. "I-impaled… I feel impaled!" Erik groaned and slid his hands down her hips. "Like I'm being sacrificed and the altar is your body." At this they both gasped and he jerked hard inside her picking up his pace. Meg rode through the pain, fingers clutching his chest. Erik, who had always been so good with words was speechless, reduced to primitive groans and pants. It was befuddling and liberating. He'd never heard anyone, let alone Meg, say such things and he found it so sexy. Tears washed down her face, her expression euphoric with a hint of pain. She leaned over him and whispered as she nipped his ears, "How am I still alive?!" Erik felt his body shudder and knew he was close. Quickly he rolled her and settled over her, thrusting hard, pinning her arms out to her sides like Jesus on the cross. "My lamb…" was all he uttered before screaming out emptying himself into her. Her climax was just as strong and she fell back limp and exhausted, clutching him to her, still shaking from head to foot.

It was an amazing moment. Beautiful and erotic and intense. They lay there for a moment gathering their breath. Then a shadow crossed them and they looked up. Meg was ready to die.

"Get off my daughter, Erik. Meg get dressed we all need to talk." She looked to the other side of the bed. They followed her gaze and both were stunned to silence.

"E-erik, I came back for my Angel" Christine. Meg's stomach lurched. Her happiness wouldn't last and she knew it.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: I know the last chapter ended awkwardly. Sorry for that and sorry for taking so long to do this next chapter. Had ideas but it got too complicated. And no, I will NOT be making this all LND in the whole Meg ends a whore thing. Seriously Webber?!

Madame Giry had been surprised to receive a message from Christine. Even more so to learn that she was in Paris and staying so close. At l'Horset Opera Hotel. She left mid-show to see what Christine had to say. She wasn't sure why but she had a sense of foreboding. Christine was elegant and sweet. She hugged her old instructor and urged her to sit, chatting idly for quite some time before announcing she needed to be taken down to the lair. The words flowed forth, leaving Antoinette in such a state of shock that she hardly knew what to do. She arranged her thoughts and agreed to take her. She doubted Erik was back, she didn't have that blind faith that sent Christine from Sweden to Paris is the hopes of seeing him. Immediately she thought of Meg. She suffered no delusions about Meg. She knew Meg had had a crush on Erik since she was a child and that it had affected her decisions with Nicolas. Perhaps Christine could be prevailed upon to tell Meg what she had just told her. Meg would surely see, that even if he was here, his heart would always be Christine's and Meg would relinquish this childish dream. Not childish - no that wasn't it, simply unfortunate.

What she wasn't expecting, what neither of them were expecting, was the sight that greeted them. Granted they heard deep groans and incoherent words. Christine blushed-her Angel was wanting her; they both assumed the wrong thing. They looked in in time to see a flash of golden hair as Erik wisped her back under him. All felt the awkwardness of it keenly. Madame Giry and Christine left the room and sat on the sofa. It was only after they had left that Erik realized that Meg was still trembling. Her face was flushed and her expression wounded but she couldn't stop shaking, from the previous pleasure or the intrusion or both. When Erik went to lift off her she whimpered and pulled him close, a sob breaking the silence. How can something so perfect end so soon? He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but for the second time tonight he was rendered speechless.

As soon as they were dressed, they walked from the room, Erik wrapping his arm about her waist. It was reassuring but it didn't help quell the lurching feeling she had in her stomach.

Christine rose as they entered, her bright smile for Erik turning to a scowl as it rested on her friend. It was going to be horridly unpleasant but Erik was determined to get it through, no matter what was said. "I am only too well aware how uncomfortable this situation is, but if Madame would pop her eyes back in her skull, and Christine do not glare at my Meg so, there's a good girl."

This only served to outrage an already tetchy Antoinette. "I'll thank you, Erik not to take that tone with me. You - she's ruined! I helped you and you repay me by taking Meg's innocence!" she, oddly enough, yelled in a whisper.

"Maman, he didn't steal it. Did it look at all that I was resisting?" Meg hissed back, "for crying out loud why are we whispering?"

"I came back for you, Angel."

All eyes turned to Christine and the most oppressive silence hung over them for several moments.

"You made your choice. You left with Raoul." Meg didn't know who to look at, her heart, she was certain had stopped beating. The only answer she got for a moment was Erik's hand clutching hers even tighter.

"Well, we've all made mistakes. Raoul must sense it, he's been quite tense with me. I loved you, I still do. That's why I am here my Angel."

Meg looked up and seemed to scrutinize them both. She sensed the truth of her words. It really didn't surprise her, but Christine's manner of delivering this news-the bluntness of it- and her continual address of Angel crawled all over her.

"If Raoul is terse with you I can very well understand. It cannot be easy living in someone's shadow…"

"Like you were in mine?"

"Well brava, Christine. I didn't know you had it in you to be peevish."

Christine ignored this and took a step toward him. "Please, if your still my Angel…"

"Angel! He's not an Angel, Christine. He's no Phantom. He's Erik. Not perfect, not a dream. Simply wonderfully Erik. Can't you even see him as that?"

"Do not tell me how to address him. I know who he is and what and I will call him my Angel if I wish. Oh, stay out of it Meg. This is our business. Erik, please, just talk with me."

Erik had been quiet during this whole exchange. He wasn't sure how many times he could be completely thrown off in one night. But this crashed right through him, a bittersweet news. For a long time he dreamed of Christine's return. But that had faded. Even before he fell for Meg. Meg seemed like she was made for him. Right from the start she was kind and loving to him. Erik just never wanted to acknowledge it. Foolish really. If Raoul suspected, if Christine told him why she had come to Paris, if Christine had left the protection of her husband's house…would Raoul bring down the police on him if he thought Erik was back in Paris?

"Does Raoul know that you are in Paris" Erik ventured.

"But of course, I told him I missed the opera and wanted to see it again. And Madame and Meg if they were still here."

"He may be a fop, Christine, but he's hardly foolish enough to think that's the only reason you came here, " Meg interjected. She would have said more but her words caught in her throat when Erik stepped forward.

"Madame, I-I thank you for doing this favor for Christine. Perhaps-," he turned to Meg and lightly kissed her cheek, "go with your mother. It will be okay. We just need to discuss things."

Meg summoned all the pride she could and looked him in the eyes, so tender and sad, tears threatening to spill over. As she passed she offered her hand to her friend, briefly shaking as her mother wrapped her arm around her shoulder and guided her from the lair, eventually making the way to the Rue Scribe. Antoinette was a little worried at Meg's composure. Meg was a girl of passions and she had never seen her so quiet. Meg held out till she got home and into her room, breaking out in an anguished scream, sobbing uncontrollably. Antoinette, fearful she's spend the rest of the night crying, gave her a dose of laudanum. She spent the night sleeping in her mother's arms.

Erik's choices in the past dogged his heels for some time. He thought he had finally outrun it and found his real happiness and here it was back to bite him. Erik spent what felt like hours talking to Christine, going over the past and what had happened. About choices. It was near 3 A.M. when he escorted her back to the hotel and he was exhausted. The exercise of the night and the taxing drama on his nerves had worn him out. He felt suddenly so old.

Meg dragged herself in the next morning. Sleep had helped but she had a dread that she was going to lose the only person she loved. "Christine was right, I always was in her shadow when it came to Erik. And everyone else. It'll be that way again." Meg begrudged this and started to change, wanting to forget everything and lose herself in dance.

She had thought she'd have some privacy, she'd be alone for a couple hours, but it wasn't going to happen. Nicolas entered, not knocking. Meg thought she must have looked truly horrendous the way he had stopped and the look of worry that was so plainly written on his face. She had hastily grabbed her dressing robe and tied it around her. She looked broken and when she saw him she heaved a ragged breath. He shut the door and came to sit by her. Nicolas lifted his hand and touched her cheek. His touch was so gentle she had to cry, leaning into his chest as his arms circled her.

She allowed herself to be held as she had her cry out. When she was calmed enough and she was only hiccupping her sobs she proceeded rather shakily. "Nicolas, I am a fool…I could never- he would never-" her breath hitched in her chest making hard to continue. He sat and waited until she was ready to go on. "I shouldn't have waited for this. Your right. I have always had feelings for him. I've blinded myself to everyone else because of him. And I do care for you, so much! You are so - your better than I deserve and when I think of it, it makes me sick with myself. I care for you. I could be with you, I've no doubt you'd marry me. But you deserve someone who loves you with equal intensity. And I cannot do that. I'd rather be alone than be the woman who marries a man when I can't love him with my whole heart."

She felt his arms slacken their hold and release her. She hated to think of how she was hurting him but it was best this way. "Well, I suppose there's nothing left to say. I hate loosing to your ideal, but I am not the person to pressure you to go against your feelings. Best to take leave and just have done. He's a lucky man and doesn't know what he could have had. But I wish you well."

Meg nodded her acknowledgment and sat dazed as he left the room. Eventually she pulled herself out of her thoughts and finished changing and left her room. After dancing for nearly two hours she returned to her room, ready to collapse.

"Did you work out your frustration, my dear?"

His voice came from the mirror, and in spite of her fears, she smiled. "Gracious Erik, how many rooms do you see into? It's quite perverse."

The mirror pivoted and turned, revealing the only person who could make her heart stop on sight. He stepped out and seemed to glide over.

"Your wit never fails you, does it? But you didn't answer me. Do you feel better now?"

"It exhausted me and that's all I wanted. H-how did it go last night? I trust your talk was productive."

"Indeed, we said what needed to be said."

Meg slowly lifted her head. How it hurt him to see her smile through her tears. "I'm s-so happy for you then. T-to have finally gotten the love you always deserved. I'm sure you'll get along well. Do send my love to Christine. I wish you joy, Erik."

"Oh my little mouse, you make such wrong assumptions. We talked yes, but in the end it was goodbyes that we said. Your painted on my heart and will always be there." He playfully tapped her nose before holding her to him.

"Oh, God, Erik I was so afraid! Thank you, ooh god thank you!" she was glad to feel his lips brushing away her tears. It was a sweet gesture that comforted her, and one Erik vowed to do anytime she cried. He found his own warmth in it as well. They sat a while, making ridiculous declarations of love, none the less true for being ridiculous. It seemed to go with the territory. Erik reveled in it as much as Meg. Never had he been able to make such open declarations, sincere and sweet, ridiculous and serious. Eventually the mood grew serious when Erik observed that he really ought to speak with Antoinette.

"I'm both happy and terrified! She's my own mother and I cannot seem to see how she will react to this."

"You mean her reaction at finding us last night didn't make that clear?"

"Oh, shush," she said with a wry smile. Meg placed a little kiss on his lips and. "Come over tonight then. And do try not to look in any more mirrors."

We will now dwell on the awkwardness of that meeting. Suffice it to say that, after protesting Erik's age, Erik's rebuttal that it wasn't an issue when it came to Christine, and Madame's reply that at the time she wouldn't dare to have objected seeing as he was not in a properly sane place, Meg and Erik's very earnest and sincerely voiced feelings, Madame finally relented. All stood in a fair way to see them both incandescently happy.


	9. Chapter 9

As much as her mother disapproved, Meg went the next day down beneath the Opera house to be with Erik. She sat curled up into his side, content and seemed disposed to be talkative. He felt this was as good a time as any to ask her something that had concerned him. But broaching the subject felt somewhat uncomfortable.

"Meg, the other night. You looked terrified a moment, you know when I mean. You looked like for a moment you thought you were somewhere else. Do you feel like you could tell me?"

Meg nodded and flushed. Her body trembled next to him but she did not hesitate.

"I figured you might ask about that. I don't want to have any secrets from you. Please, do not yell. And it was quite some time ago it would really not do any good. You recall of course how you arranged to have me promoted to leader of a row. I was so happy and excited and I promised myself I'd be the best dancer and not let you down so I would go in and practice even when we weren't scheduled to. I had finished practicing one day and was headed back to my room when I came across Monsieur Debienne in the corridor. It was early and he was already grossly intoxicated, muttering as he went about the Opera Ghost. It's funny the things you remember. I can still plainly see the silver flask he had in his hand and the obsidian stone set in the center and thinking how pretty it was…but perhaps it isn't so strange that I remember that."

Meg had trailed off and Erik was left with a vague notion of what was coming. She had tugged her dress together at her chest as if she were trying to cover herself more. When she seemed to be lost in her thoughts he cleared his throat and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"Sorry. It's not something I want to talk of but I'll finish up. You know how playful I can be. I asked him if it was not rather early to be so inebriated and had taken his flask from him. He whined a bit and grabbed it back. I wish I had just left, kept my mouth shut. Instead I laughed, it really was funny to me then, and asked if he wanted me to put a nipple on his flask if he was going to whine like a baby. The look he gave me, I thought he was going to hit me. I wish he had. He made a very lewd comment, wanting a proper nipple and tore open my dress. I didn't know he had such a tight grip…Erik he- he had his mouth on me. He shoved me into Sorelli's dressing room, we had been next to it. He didn't do anything else, thank God. He passed out trying to undo his trousers. So when you- it took me back. I didn't know it would. I had to watch you to make sure I wasn't there."

"My God, Meg. Why didn't you tell? He should have been punished. You should have told your mother and me."

"I couldn't. It was too humiliating. Besides I was fairly certain you'd have killed him."

"I would have been hard put not to. Or at least put such a fear in him that he'd never touch you again."

"I wish it hadn't happened. I wish that all the time."

"Close your eyes. See yourself there, but someone else. Your mother perhaps." Erik didn't think it would work but if could bring her closure of comfort he would try. "Who's there with you?"

"Erik is there. Safe.." A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Ah, my little mouse, your with me, safe and loved and desired. Your fears are behind you, it's my touch and nobody else's, that you will feel."

Meg felt his hand chafe her cheek. "Who's touch is that?"

"Erik's…"

He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "And that?" She could almost hear the smile in his voice and it made her warm and happy.

"Erik's kiss."

Meg felt a delightfully wicked shutter roll through her as Erik captured her mouth with his, the kiss sweet and gentle but his hand firmly caressing her chest. She was a little shocked that she could be so eager for his touch after having to relive that mauling. Could it have been more natural though? To erase the touch of something so vile with the body of one you love? The tender kiss gave way to the eagerness to feel each other and they battled with each other's clothing.

Erik laid her back and took one lovely bud into his mouth, his other hand teasing the other. And when he set his knee between her legs, Meg's thoughts flew away, leaving her vaguely aware of her body grinding against his leg.. The immediate response made his own body react in kind. He wanted to taste her, needing to know every pleasure he could have in her. He trailed kisses down her body and soon they were lost in learning the delights of oral manipulation. With his tongue dancing and teasing inside her she was at the brink sooner than she could have guessed. Meg urgently groped his head and held him to her, crying out for him as she let herself go. She reciprocated as best she could, learning to breathe around him and the pace he liked. And holding her hair back watching her was erotic, making it hard for Erik to be slow and gentle with her. The day ended with Meg on her back, Erik over her, still inside. Spent and exhausted they fell asleep, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

Christmas came and Meg dutifully went to Midnight Mass. There seemed a new beauty to the holiday, a new appreciation for the season. Churches and cathedrals, large and small, throughout Paris -throughout France- were magnificently lit and echoed the joyful melodies of carols, bells, and carillons, each displaying their mangers. She eagerly anticipated this year's le reveillon, the late supper, for Erik would be there. It was, as she saw it, their first meal as a family.

The Giry's home was warm and cozy and welcoming. It was moving to Erik, who never had such memories from his childhood, and he felt a keen ache at what he had been denied. Meg caught him later wiping away his own tears, she returned the favor showed not too long ago by kissing away his tears. Madame Giry came across this, Erik's face hidden in her daughter's hair, Meg holding him and talking low. She caught enough to sense the comfort Erik needed and how kindly and softly Meg gave it. It was a sight that made her mother melt. It was touching and she acknowledged within herself that they seemed to fit together.

This is not to say they did not seize any opportunity to be alone. The chance to steal kisses and enjoy each other's arms was under no circumstance ever to be passed up. And with his access to her dressing room it would have been quite often but for the fact that there was no reason to go there with everyone gone for the holiday and him being admitted to her home. So when Madame would politely leave the room, their lips would inevitably find each other. Here, also, they talked of what should happen. Meg still wanted to dance, the question of where to live, and how to marry. A difficult matter when your engaged to a wanted man.

"Why didn't we think of this before? It really is perfect. Carnivale - the Mardis Gras! Everyone will be in masks so getting out will be relatively easy! A masquerade wedding!"

A very unanimous NO burst simultaneously from her mother and Erik. Antoinette came from the other room adding her disapproving look to Erik's.

"But why not. It's perfect."

"I want you to have a proper wedding. You deserve that. Won't you be disappointed if you don't get to pick out your dress and flowers and whatever else women do for these things?"

"And can you wait until February?" her mother added.

"I would like that and being married soon but I don't need it. As long as we get to be married. Besides, it has it's own difficulties. If it were known your back in Paris- I'm not going to be so selfish as to put those trivial things ahead of your safety."

She sat silently as her mother and Erik took this in, and they admitted the sensibleness of it. Meg was sweet, too, to be so willing to give up all girls dream about. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it. It was simple and obvious. He was particularly good in hiding in plain sight. And now that they were all in agreement, they set about to be ready.


	10. Chapter 10

New Year's came and the Palais Garnier held it's usual celebrations. Meg sat in her room wrapped in her dressing gown, drawing kohl outlines of peacock feathers on the side of her eye and wished she was getting married tonight. If she weren't feeling so tired. She wasn't sure she wanted to go tonight. For days she felt lethargic and a bit ill. Most likely too much Erik and not enough food, Meg thought to herself. She finished coloring in her feathers and stood from her vanity table.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone paint on their masks before. You do look stunning though," came his voice from the mirror.

"How can you say that when I'm not even dressed yet?" Meg stood and reached for her teal dress as Erik emerged from behind the mirror.

"Well your hair is stunning, then, all curled and pinned up like that. Is that your dress?" he said pointing to the garment in hand. "It's barely more than a tutu, you can't go out in that."

Meg slide on her short tulle skirted dress and walked over to him. "It's not that short, it's almost to my knees. But if you worried, maybe you should attend. Tie my ribbons around my waist?"

Erik tied the deep blue and green ribbons and chafed his hands over the cap sleeves of her dress. "Or you can stay. You do look tired."

"Exhausted. I'm all nerves lately and anxious, trying to get things ready with minimal questions from others. And your not helping. You keep me up far too late." Meg smiled and leaned back against him. She felt better with him. When she wasn't with him, she found herself resenting that she couldn't have a regular wedding, that what they had planned was little better than an elopement. More than anything she wanted to feel like she wasn't hiding something she was ashamed of. Having Erik near made it all go away.

"I can't say I recall you complaining of our - erm, well, exertions. You can count on me to be a perfect gentleman all night. Or I'll try. It's not often I get such a pretty bird in my claws." He strayed his hands over what she called a dress. "Or one so regal. In Persia the peacock is the symbol for the guardian of loyalty and often used to represent royalty. In Hindu culture, the peacock is linked with patience, kindness, compassion, benevolence and good luck All of which you are."

"How on Earth, Erik, did you go from wicked cat in whose claws I was caught to the sweet and romantic man? You turn my head and make me dizzy. I quite enjoy it."

"What can I say, I am a talented man, Meg." He lowered his lips to his ear and whispered, "Don't go. Stay with me, I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?" she asked with the unveiled eagerness of a child. Erik adored that little quirk of sweet innocence and gaiety she had.

"Stay and find out." He stood holding her, studying her face in the mirror, his own catching his eye occasionally. His own reflection still bothered him but not as it use to. He was learning to see himself the way Meg did.

"I can't. I have to go. But I'll come as soon as I can decently get away."

"I think two hours is more than enough time to grace the crowd with your presence. Be here then and I'll meet you and you'll get your surprise" Erik kissed the top of her head and showed her how to come down through the mirror.

It seemed the two hours dragged, and her few dance partners were rather dull, she thought in comparison to her Erik. When the time drew close she wove her way through the crowd and made it back to the dressing room. She was a bit surprised to see her mother there.

"Are you ready?" her mother asked.

"You mean your part of the surprise?" Meg was growing quite bewildered and turned a quizzical look at Erik as he came through the mirror.

"She is indeed." he said with a smile. "Confusion suits you my dear."

"She's no doubt wondering what kind a surprise could it be if it involves her maman," Antoinette said hugging her girl.

"N-no not at all, maman, I just thought- he.. Well I didn't know I was going to be escorted down to Erik's is all."

They smiled and said nothing, but ushered her through the glass and made their way down to the lake. To her surprise they didn't head to his house, but out to the Rue Scribe where a carriage was waiting.

"What on Earth is going on?"

"You'll find out soon enough, my child." In the dim light she saw her mother smile, almost glowing. It must be a very good surprise, Meg thought.

Erik opened the door and turned, scooping her up and placing her in a tufted cushioned seat. After helping in her mother, he hopped in and sat beside Meg, draping his arm around her. "No questions, now."

Meg settled back, pressing her lips together in an effort not to ply them both with questions on the spot. With any luck she would find out soon. And she did, rather sooner than she had expected. Several blocks away they pulled up in front of a small vestry. Meg's heart raced with excitement.

"Erik!" It seemed to be all she could say but that and the smile on her face was more than enough.

"Come, they are expecting us."

He slipped his mask on and stepped out, helping the ladies and ushered them inside. They were greeted by an elderly man with kind eyes in his purple vestments. He lead the way down the isle to the lectern, where his Bible lay and an official looking sheet that Meg assumed to be the marriage certificate.

"This is Father Isodore Robot."

"Yes, I am performing the ceremony this evening. It may be rushed, there's quite a queue for weddings tonight. Are you ready, my dear?" he said in his shaky voice. Meg nodded and grabbed Erik's arm. Her mother took her place beside her.

"Dear family and friends, on behalf of Erik Destler and Marguerite Giry, I welcome you all for this marriage ceremony. We are here today to encourage, celebrate, and support the covenant these two people, Erik and Meg, who are going to make and to share in the joy that they experience as they pledge their love and commitment to each other. We rejoice in the manner God has led them to each other and got them to the place where they now stand. Since it is your intention to marry, join your right hands and declare your consent."

Erik took her hand, his hands trembling, almost on the verge of tears.

The old shaky voice brought him back to himself. "Monsieur Destler, Repeat after me. " I Erik, take you, Marguerite, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love from this day forward. In the presence of God, our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and health, in good times and in bad. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love from this day forward as long as we both shall live."

Erik repeated the words flawlessly, his voice a bit thick with restrained tears. Meg said her vows, letting her tears flow, heedless of the trails of green and blue coursing down her cheek.

The whole thing whizzed by but she remembered every word every line and vow. The exchanging of rings, the pledges and finally the kiss. She felt more blessed than she felt she had a right to be. After signing the certificate and Erik's rather generous donation, they headed back to the Giry's flat. Only Meg and Erik got out. Meg kissed her maman, who headed back to the Palais Garnier to spend the remainder of the party there, giving her daughter and son-in-law a few hours of privacy.

The hours passed in bliss and passion and showers of eager happy kisses. They lay together whispering and laughing, mostly at Meg's smeared face, which Erik proclaimed to be even more adorable than ever. He readily told her how he managed the night, for once thankful that as yet, the world had not known his last name, something, Meg was sure, not even Christine had known, though she was discreet and tactful enough not to say so. When Antoinette came in nearer 4 in the morning, she was worried that maybe she should have just stayed at the Opera house. But the whispers and giggles and faint sounds of conversation set her at ease. Her one concern was Meg not living down in a cold cellar.

Meg slept much of the morning away, the excitement of the night coupled with her previous stress wearing her out. As Erik got out of bed he noticed she looked a bit pale, even under what was left of her makeup. He dressed and went into the living room, where Madame Giry was sitting, curtains drawn.

"Was Meg feeling ill before last night? She looks a little pale."

"She felt a little ill, but she said it was stress. Perhaps she is getting sick. It's cool and damp down here. Perhaps that is why. Erik, have you given real consideration as to where you will live? She can't stay down there locked away with you. And you do not need to be down there either."

"There are quite a number of difficulties for us to live in a normal house, Antoinette. You are aware of them. But I understand your concern. I want so much to have a normal life. A real house with Meg. We just can't have that here."

"Are you suggesting leaving Paris?"

Erik nodded. "It's been on my mind. I know Meg still wants to dance. But she could find another place. Some other place where the stories of the Phantom are vague and largely unknown."

"She's my only child, Erik. What would I do if I couldn't see her often?"

"It's all just speculation at this point, Madame. You really do not have to worry yet. But when Meg is better we will discuss it together. I'm just glad she's resting."

"Discuss what?" Meg asked as she walked into the room, scratching her bed head and rumpling it up worse.

"It will keep, my dear. How are you feeling? You still look pale." Her mother asked as she went up and hugged her daughter.

"I feel tired still and weak. But not as bad. I could sleep the whole day away still though. "

Meg didn't exactly get better, she just got better at hiding. She herself was worried but like her mother and Erik, put it to possibly having the flu. She resumed her practices and rehearsals after a brief honeymoon period of nearly two weeks after the Masquerade.

It was about this same time that everything took an unexpected turn. Erik seemed to have taken up residence in the flat, not something she was the least sorry for, but this morning he was already down in his home. She had gotten up, the smell of brouillade de truffe (eggs with black truffles) greeting her. Meg quickly washed up and wrapped up, heading for the little kitchen. She felt starved and ready to eat. But the smell turned and the taste seemed different and suddenly she felt her chest and stomach heave and she rushed from the room.

Fear and excitement gripped her chest as the idea sank in, the possibility of something sweet growing inside. She didn't know which was the most predominant. It seemed like such a short time that she had been with Erik, but having a family with him thrilled her. But would he be happy, could she continue her career, what would her mother think? She'd find out soon enough for very soon there was a knock at the water closet door. It opened before she could say anything, and there stood her mother looking worried but a faint smile on her face. Meg burst out crying. "What am I going to do?"


	11. Chapter 11

When Erik had left the flat in the pre-dawn hours, he had not expected to come face to face yet again with his past. Daroga. For a moment he felt he was on the verge of being hunted again.

"Your still holding yourself to your duty to your friend, a dead friend?"

Nadir spun around, his features seeming even more aged. "Well, dead to the world but not to me. So good to see you my friend! How long have you been back?"

The kind and eager tone set Erik at ease, and he soon realized he had done nothing to warrant being hunted over. Erik felt a warmth inside, realizing how much he missed his friend.

"Well a better question would be how did you know I was back? But come in, I am certain I can get the story from you."

"I am glad to tell you know if it is required, but the comfort of chair would be better." Nadir said, knocking his foot on the side of the boat.

Both boarded the little boat and started their way to Erik's lair. They made their way in comfortable silence. Once there, Nadir took off his coat and almost flung himself into a thickly cushioned sofa. Quite a fete for a man who was getting up in years.

"Please, make yourself at home!" Erik said dryly.

"I believe I have! Well now, my old friend, you've already expressed an interest to know how I knew you to be back in Paris, and I shall tell you. You probably didn't know, but after I wrote to the Vicomte and his wife of your death, I have only occasionally found my way over for a visit. Well, somehow- I don't recall how you came up at all- I made the comment about the anniversary of your death. I'll spare you the Vicomte's reply, but Christine turned pale then red. A hint of anger that was cooling but mostly embarrassment I think. When her husband left I got the full story," flashing a knowing smile. "No news could have made me happier than to know you found what you wanted. And as I have been more than willing to share my story, I expect you to be willing to share yours. What sort of girl is she? How did it come about?"

The eagerness with which this flowed forth was highly gratifying and Erik found he was more than willing to share. He clarified who Meg was and how he had known her since she was little, even bringing out the notes that she had written through the years. In fact he told everything. Erik explained his initial reservations on approaching Meg either on finding her in his home or when he found he had feelings for her, which was quite understandable his old friend agreed. His utter contempt at himself for liking his competition, but he wasn't nearly as bad as the Vicomte so it was allowable. Erik brought out Meg's last letter and the little song she had wrote, demonstrating the few bars she had shakily played, and told how this insight and the real chance of losing her before he could have her drove him to act finally. But he just would not give the intimate details of their first night. To this the Daroga feigned shock and disappointment, both men laughing heartily. It felt good to Erik to share in such camaraderie, having a friend to share his happiness with.

"Now don't laugh at this, I'm very serious, but sometimes it really does seem as if she was made for me."

"You romantic! Ha, well it would seem as if she was."

"How I could have missed it, especially when as a child she showed such love, it makes me feel I can't repay her. Well, what else was to be done but to marry her?" Erik looked up with a sly grin as he heated the samovar. Nadir had sat bolt upright.

"Well that's new! Your married, really? When? Damn man, put away the tea we must celebrate! No, wait, take me to your wife, and then we'll have one. Erik, you shouldn't hide such things, but I suppose it's the showman in you that has to bring out such news in such a dramatic way" he groaned as he pulled himself up from the couch, taking up his coat.

Erik grinned and helped his friend. "Well if you weren't going to ask to meet her I had to say something to make you want to."

"Wait, so your not married?" Nadir asked, his tone annoyed and incredulous.

"I am freshly married, Nadir. A few weeks ago. Now come along, I want to introduce my wife." Nadir smiled, knowing the pride Erik felt being able to say that, bringing back memories of his own lost family.

MEG SAT waiting what felt like forever. She wasn't sure when Erik would return. The waiting was only adding to her anxiety. Grabbing her coat she announced she was going to go down to him. She couldn't wait any longer. She opened the door and came not quite face to face with Erik.

Erik stood staring down at the pale and apprehensive face whose eyes were quickly threatening tears and quickly forgot Nadir standing behind him. Half a moment later she had thrown herself in his arms, shaking like a leaf.

"Meg, I- what's happened?" When he heard a choked sob about to break forth, he tried his voice. He could tell she needed comfort, from what he could hardly think, and hoped like anything that at this moment she would let his voice influence her. "Shhh, now Meg, it's okay. Whatever it is will be just fine."

Meg wanted so much for it to be true. Just let it all be okay… She let his voice wash over her and sighed as her nerves settled. She could feel the salt drops start sliding down. As she tiptoed, ready to rub her eyes on Erik's shoulder, she stiffened suddenly and pulled away; quickly dabbing her eyes she smiled at the visitor.

"I'm sorry- please, come in, I'm sorry to have scared you both. Your- you're the Persian, aren't you? We use to see you around the opera house." Meg wracked her brain trying to remember his name, she was certain that Erik had told her. When her memory didn't serve her immediately she felt her stress rise again and only wanted to cry more.

The man stepped forward and took her hand, giving a reassuring smile. "Nadir, Madame Destler. Pardon me for not paying my respects to the happy couple. I place the blame solely on your husband for not having invited me to the wedding in the first place. But at least he's had the presence of mind to talk about me when I am not around."

Meg felt a wild giggle ready to burst forth but she gained control, determined not to make a fool of herself. She appreciated his kindness in helping her and trying to make an obviously troubled woman smile. She wanted so much to be a proper hostess, for the sake of Erik and for the man she had taken a lively interest since she had learned of him.

"Meg, we can wait-" Erik offered quietly.

"No, no I am okay. Please, we cannot have him leave. Nadir, do sit. I am delighted to finally meet you properly. Erik told you then about the wedding?" Meg put on her sweetest smile and took a seat, Erik soon taking the one next to her. The trio was soon joined by Antoinette. As everyone was settled and Meg seemed composed, Nadir retold how he had learned Erik was back in Paris, Christine's springing it on him.

"Did she really seem like she wasn't as angry? I hope so…." Meg trailed off.

"That could not have been a comfortable conversation to have. Might I ask what you said to her, monsieur Nadir?" This came from Madame Giry.

"It was a bit awkward, the more so since I had to conceal my happiness. But I told her that your daughter did make some good points, but that in the confusion of the moment it may have been expressed not as she intended. I intimated that she should dwell on the things that made her fall in love with her husband, and that he would be the kinder for her attention. And that the happiness they once had will naturally return. And hoped that she would be happy for both her friend and Erik."

"Good advice, let's hope she takes it. I hate for my little Meg to lose someone she was as close as a sister with." Again from Madame.

"Well it was one surprise after another. I get here and finally find Erik and receive news that he was married. I told him we had to come straight away, I needed to bless the bride belatedly and celebrate the happy news with you all."

Erik beamed, he had a family and friends and more happiness than he thought he would ever have. And to be able to do celebrate- he'd never been asked to participate in any form of celebration until Meg. He rose headed to the kitchen, "I have a bottle of wine left from the wedding. An 1880 Jouffreau Clos de Gamot. "

"Just water for me, thank you," Meg stammered out. She felt all eyes turn her way, her mother the only one giving her an understanding look.

"Water for a celebration? Meg, you can't be serious," Erik said in a playfully reproving voice. "I'll get your glass."

"I can't take wine Erik."

Erik looked at her quizzically then turned off a laugh. 'Nonsense, love, of course you can."

Meg visibly paled, and Nadir stepped forward. "Erik, I think she's trying to tell you something. She could drink, yes, but she wont. It wouldn't be good for her.." He let the words sink in. Erik looking from Nadir to Meg to Antoinette.

"No, no that - no! Meg how could you! Aren't you suppose to keep up with your- your, well your cycle?! You knew you'd get pregnant!" Erik thundered.

Meg's tears and fears quickly dissolved, quickly angered at the thought of Erik thinking she did this on purpose. "I knew I could! But I can't keep track, if you must know and if you want to discuss such things openly. I am not regular. A doctor told me that women who are under such rigorous training or athletics may not have regular cycles so I shouldn't worry. I didn't plan this! I do not know how long I can hide it, how long I will be able to dance, I have no idea what I am going to tell people! Your not the only one affected by this."

Antoinette embarrassedly confirmed this, leaving Nadir and Erik both feeling uncomfortable. It didn't do much to quell Erik's anger.

"Your about half responsible, my friend," Nadir quietly interjected. "Look at your wife, she's been upset about this for a while obviously. She was afraid of what you would think."

Erik grumbled under his breath and looked over at his now crying wife, feeling suddenly sick and ashamed. He pulled her close and sighed, "Oh Meg, I'm sorry. Please, love don't cry. I'm sorry I yelled."

"I should have known. You h-hate… you hate" Meg couldn't finish her sentence, her voice suddenly weak and tired.

"I don't hate you for this. That- I didn't mean to sound that way." Erik's voice was calm and soothing. When he felt her relax, he made his voice firm and persuasive. "There is only one thing to be done, Meg. You know that right?"

Meg sniffled and nodded.

"Good girl. We will find someone to help you get rid of the child." The words hung in the air, and both Madame Giry and Nadir nodded and bowed their head.

"No, that is not what is to be done, Erik," Meg's head shot up, her eyes hard and defiant. It frustrated Erik that she would choose such a subject to purposely assert her own will and reject the control of his voice. She had to know why he didn't want this.

Erik caught her shoulders, fighting the urge to give her a good shake. "Meg, we are not having that thing! I will not have any child suffer as I did and be teased and tormented by the world. You will do as I say and get rid of it as soon as possible."

Her voice was calm and quiet, but it carried all the conviction she felt. "Erik, I am sorry to go against the wishes of my husband, but I can't do this. It's so soon but I want this so much. I understand your fears. The chances of him being born with the same deformity seems so unlikely, since as you have told me, it did not seem to be in either side of your family. Please. Please Erik, say you will love him."

There was an awful silence. No one knew where to look. Erik turned and walked out the door, only saying he would return. Nadir, feeling all the discomfort of having witnessed a family fight of such importance, said a hasty congratulations and bid farewell, leaving the two women alone. Life was about to get a lot harder and a lot more interesting.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Trying to tie in some references to Susan Kay’s The Phantom…we’ll see how it goes. And sorry it has taken so long to get this going. There were family issues and sickness. My spacebar on my old laptop quit working. I had to save up to get a new one and then found that I hate windows 8;and following true Wal-Mart fashion, the new laptop was crap. Lesson: Never buy electronics from Wal-Mart. Now I hope for a reprieve from such craziness and be able to focus on finishing this. I am also thinking of doing a Cross-over of Dorian Gray and PTO based off a role play I did on Facebook. Input: would that be something you'd like to read?

Meg knew better than to go after Erik. She let him come back at his own time. But sleeping without him by her was difficult. Close to dawn he returned. Meg felt greatly relieved, hoping for at least a couple hours of sleep in Erik’s arms. But she found herself rebuffed and she felt herself crying all over again. It wasn’t that Erik was trying to hurt her. He wanted to hold her but something inside, where it was from he couldn’t place, would not let him do it. Finally he allowed himself to take her hand. It wasn’t nearly what she needed but she made the effort to relax and calm down. She knew she needed rest, she needed to be able to get through the new rehearsals that would start, and more importantly, she needed to be able to think and work out what to do.

But sleep was going to be a precious commodity. It seemed that as soon as Erik slept, his nightmares started. Every bad memory of his childhood would replay over and over again almost every night. Meg was woken up often to the sound of screams and pleading for a mother she knew Erik never had to make the monster go away. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but Meg started to think that maybe she had been wrong. In an attempt to catch up on sleep, she took to sleeping in her dressing room every chance she could. One night Erik woke them both sobbing. Meg soothed and shushed and hugged him and tried to get him to tell his dream. Finally, he told her. He had seen his mother’s face. But it changed and he saw Meg, disgusted and fending away a little boy. He knew this wouldn’t happen but it still shook him badly. This was the worst dream. But there was a reality that was so much worse. 

Time had passed, and as best as they could guess Meg was closing out her third month. She wasn’t showing but they knew that would soon change. Meg had gotten as accustomed as she could to the small cries and groans that woke her up. The deficit of sleep slowly started to show on her though. This night was different. Meg woke to Erik’s thrashing next to her, Erik lay back kicking in his sleep. Meg turned and put her hands on him trying to calm him when up he bolted grabbing at her and pushing her back into the bed. His hands closed around her throat, screaming frantically. In the confusion of her half awakened state and the crushing pain, she caught the low growl of Erik’s voice most of it unintelligible. “…Javert… I’ll kill you…. Never touch..” Meg barely choked out his name, her nails found his face as she fought to stay awake. Moments later she heard a loud thud and felt Erik fall from  
her. Meg gasped, the sudden intake of air an intense sting in her lungs, and she blacked out. 

She woke hours later when the sun shone in her eyes, and as her eyes fluttered open she could see her mother holding her hand. The pain was still very intense. “M-maman-” she scratched out and coughed. Her mother was quickly at her side handing her a glass of water. As she raised her hands to her mouth she noticed red spots all over her fingers and hands running up her arm. She nearly dropped the glass and frantically reached for a looking glass. She almost sobbed when she saw her neck black and blue, her face covered with the same petechial hemorrhages as her arms, even her eyes. 

“Erik’s sorry,” came a weak and timid voice from the corner of the room. 

Meg sat up to see him huddled in a ball as deep in the corner as he could get. Slowly his head raised and Meg saw the angry red marks on his face left by her nails, the broken and contrite expression of his eyes. Meg held out her hand trying to say his name. But each raspy try only made him rock back and forth on his heels and hide his face mumbling in the third person. Finally, she gave up verbally trying to call, to save both of them pain. When he next looked up she silently held her hand out, her face soft and sad. There was something almost like fear in his eyes as he finally made his way to her side that hurt her so deep. She knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her but was it her reprisals or was he still under some vague fear of his past. What his nightmare must have been tied to? Was she okay? Would the child be okay? These questions quickly chased each other as she took him in her arms. Both needed comfort and they sat crying in each other’s arms, Antoinette watching over both. 

Some hours later, Meg learned the few details about this part of Erik’s life that her mother knew. She was devastated for Erik, and while she didn’t condone murder, she felt with every bit of her being that Javert had gotten what he deserved. They then set about what to do with Meg. She wasn’t sure how long it would take for the red spots to go away, so they agreed that Antoinette would say she was sick since everyone seemed to have noted her lack of energy. So Meg stayed home and rested, explanations were given and accepted. Thank God something went smoothly at least for a while. 

A couple days later they received news that Christine was back in town and wished very much to see Meg. Word was sent around that the visit would have to be postponed as Meg was ill. Christine sent a note brooking no refusals. It read as follows:

My dear Meg, I fancy you are a bit apprehensive about meeting since the last time. It must be for no one said what you were sick with. Therefore, I conclude that it must be an excuse. Please do not feel like you cannot meet me. I am longing to see you. There is so much I want to tell my friend. If your worried how to meet and where, we can meet at the Opera house in your dressing room. If you are truly sick then we will make everything as comfortable as possible so you do not get worse. Unless you are contagious then, yes we will have to wait. Please say your well enough to see me, to see us. Oh, such news! By the by, if we meet I am sure you will be discrete enough not to mention our last meeting. My dear Raoul does not know and I want to spare him that pain. But of course, on you I can fully rely. 

Ever your friend, Christine

The last thing Meg wanted was to be seen still covered with these hemorrhages. But the note touched her more than she thought it would. She missed her friend and it sounded like Christine missed her too. Not to mention she was eaten with curiosity as to what it was she wanted to say. So the following day was set and soon the two friends would see each other again. Meg wrapped herself up and put on a scarf to hide the still very visible bruises to her neck. She wanted to arrive early along with her mother to be the first ones there, but Christine and Raoul were already in the room. Christine stood and smiled, while Raoul- well Meg couldn't exactly tell what he was feeling, it seemed a mix of many emotions. 

Christine rushed forward, taking Meg's hands in hers, guiding her to the sofa. "At last we have you! Come and sit and I'll wrap you up. You must have been quite ill, your still so wrapped up," such flowed from Christine in one rapid stream. 

As she chanced to look at her hands with her Meg's she caught sight of the little red marks. When Meg looked up she saw real alarm in her face, concern it would seem for her and her own well being, for Christine had involuntarily drew back to Raoul. "Did you have measles, Meg? I thought- did you not have that already as a child? Are you contagious?" 

Meg gave a quick glance at her mother and shook her head. She could have left it to her mother to speak but she had already committed to coming and would have to say something anyway. What to say? Meg's voice was still raspy as she uttered, "No- indeed, I do not. It-it was rather foolish- but I was wearing a new scarf and when I closed to door behind me to my room, it caught and I...I strangled myself." She hated lying, but at least it had a tiny bit of truth-she was strangled. She was glad that she was able to come up with a plausible excuse so fast to calm the couple in front of her. Her mother put her "accident" down to stress and exhaustion. The two smiled their pity, acknowledging it must have been terrifying. 

"It must have left quite a mark," Raoul said, inclining his head toward Meg. All she could do was nod. If he wished to see he was going to be disappointed. Let him put it down to vanity, it did not matter to her. 

"Now, you relax. I won't push you to say more than is needed. I can imagine the pain it costs you to speak, my poor dear. Answer me this- just nod, mind you- are you not extremely curious as to what has brought us here? It's quite okay. I have thoroughly acquainted my husband with stories of your curiosity."

Meg nodded, she and Antoinette both felt a slight tremble of fear at just what she had relayed until remembering Christine's wish to have any allusions to her last meeting told. So at least she was safe on that front. 

"News of the most astonishing sort. As well as news of the sweetest sort. It would seem we have a common acquaintance. You remember the Persian. He comes to visit us -well I say he comes. He's only been about three or four times. But he has told us the most exceptionable thing! That his old friend-our Phantom- and the blonde angel were married and expecting," Christine did very well hiding her blush and acting the part of astonished friend. "Really, we both could not believe it and we came to hear it from you. And we wanted to share that we too are due a little one of our own." 

Meg's jaw nearly dropped. Had it really only taken a few short months for Christine to go from being anxious to have Erik again to being contented mother-to-be? She looked at the couple a while. They seemed rather happy. "How long?" she rasped out. 

"Only about a month," Raoul said as he stepped forward and kissed his wife on the head. "I'll let you girls talk. Antoinette and I will be just outside."

Meg sat quietly as they left the room. She spoke in whispered tones. "I suppose he's not happy to be back even knowing your safe. And things he's rather not hear too I suppose. Does he know Erik was here the last time?"

Christine colored up a little, matching Meg's whisper. "He knows but he thinks I wasn't aware of it. It doesn't stop him from being a little angry still and worried. But- You do believe me when I say I'm not anymore, don't you? I thought a lot of what you and Nadir said. You were right, both of you. I was being incredibly selfish. When it came down to it, I had wanted both. I wasn't helping my marriage that way. Your right, I had made my choice. As for Raoul, he is a bit uncomfortable being here. He knows he has nothing to worry about on that score now, but I think there will be always a bit of mistrust. And he is -we are- worried about you."

"Worried?! What do you have to worry about me for?"

"We can see how any girl can be fascinated by Erik, but Meg, you hardly know him."

Meg suddenly realized how quickly "no talking" had been ditched. She shrugged and gave a weak smile admitting that she had known Erik much longer than even Christine. Her friend evinced the obvious surprise and pressed to know how that was possible. Meg proceeded to give her a brief synopsis of her relationship with Erik, starting when she was a child. 

"Well," Christine said at last, "I'll try not to feel betrayed. You knew all that time and never said! Why Meg?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell. I had promised. I couldn't. And Erik-" Meg tugged at the scarf. She felt warm and uncomfortable from both the material and her confession. As she tugged Christine looked up and gasped as she caught sight of very distinct bruises. Her hand flew to Meg's and held them still, and loosened the scarf more. 

"He did that didn't he! Meg you lied! How- Raoul!" she screamed out. Meg sat stunned a moment and grabbed the scarf back as the door flew open quickly winding it back around her. "Raoul, there are fingerprints on her throat! She's trying to hide them. HE hurt her!"  
"You sound surprised, my dear, that it would happen. That man is a monster," Raoul replied as he tugged Meg up, removing the scarf and inspecting her. "Madame! Gather up Meg's things, she's leaving with us."

Raoul rained down abuses on Erik while he and Christine tried to urge her to leave. Meg shook them off, trembling from head to foot. She was vaguely aware of a dull ache in her side, and she folded her arms around her stomach as tears rolled down her cheeks. She brokenly tried to explain what happened. His nightmares, his fear of the child being like him, lightly touching on the dream that had resulted in her bruises. As she proceeded she seemed to get even more hoarse, the ache becoming constant.  
She hadn't realized that the others were now silent, she didn't feel her mother or Christine's hands on hers over her midsection and try to hush her. Her mother tried to calm her and seat her, but she seemed almost rooted to the spot.

Meg gave a pained groan as she continued. "I won't be taken from my husband. It's my fault as well. This whole time I've been selfish, wanting this to happen, this baby, and wanting him to touch me. He hardly touches me now. He didn't want this and I understood why and what it could do and I've done it anyway."

Meg slumped on the sofa looking exhausted and pale. She gave a tired smile as she heard the mirror shift. She raised her arms like an expectant child as Erik came across the room and cradled her to him. Raoul wasn't surprised that Erik would be there listening in. He was, however, surprised at Meg for receiving him so happily. It didn't occur to him till later that Erik could have been in earlier threatening bodily harm for attempting to take Meg. While he still didn't want to be in the same room with Erik, he had the presence of mind to point out that Meg was not well and needed a doctor. With more authority than he probably ever had, Raoul-who was a good man really-offered his protection to Meg with him and Christine and to call the doctor to his home. Madame Giry could bring Erik but everything must be done quickly and quietly. Everyone looked up astonished at this, none more so than Erik. Time being important, however, everyone shook themselves into action and soon Meg was rattling her way to the De Chagny estate between Raoul and Christine.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things may be turning around for our pair. And my apologies for all the time it takes me to post a new chapter. I really hate that my new schedule is so busy. I hope your all enjoying this. And do let me know what you think. I also asked your opinion on a Meg/Dorian crossover. It will most likely be a short story but if it's something you think worth a read let me know and I'll get to work on it.

"This isn't going to work. Turn around and take me home."

"We'll be at our place soon, and you can rest till the doctor comes, “Raoul interjected.

"You had mother and Erik follow. It won't work! With your servants about, how would he ever get in without being noticed, or are you wanting him caught? The doctor can be sent for to my place. Turn around now!"

It would have been amusing, the look of complete shock on their faces, if she hadn't felt at the moment like everything was going to fall apart and she was going to be left nothing but a bundle of fried nerves. Meg sighed in relief as Raoul ordered the change in direction. She didn't want to think or speak at the moment, and she was glad for the silence the couple were willing to give her. At last she could relax. Soon they were in front of her door. Meg allowed herself to be helped out of the carriage and went inside, heading immediately to bed. 

Christine followed her in. "Is there anything you want I can get for you?"

The only thing Meg wanted was silence, Erik, and the pain to stop. She wasn’t sure if she said this or not. But apparently even though in pain Meg managed to drop right off to sleep. It couldn’t have been long. When she roused herself she faintly heard her mother’s and Erik’s voice. 

“Are you sure you should call for the doctor? How exactly are you going to explain this?” Erik was asking. 

There was silence for a moment before Raoul admitted he hadn’t thought that far but he had every confidence in his physician’s discretion. “Besides, she may need him. She was obviously in a pain. This stress can’t be good for her."

“Are you saying this is MY fault?” Erik rumbled. This brought Meg completely out of her brief rest. Already the pain was intensifying at the thought of a fight breaking out.

“I have an idea,” Christine interjected. “We’ve been trying almost since we were married to have a child. We could say that we began to think it wouldn’t happen and that we asked Meg to be our surrogate.”

“Are you trying to ruin me?! What are people going to say if your doctor can’t hold his tongue and such a story gets out?” Meg shot out, causing everyone to turn.

Erik quickly strode over and knelt down next to her. He gently laid his hand on her stomach and moved his hand in little circles. Meg had wanted to feel that since the beginning. And now it brought her to tears. Erik kissed her head, “Now, now, my little mouse it was just a suggestion. Try to keep calm. Though I will say I do not like the idea. I cannot think of anything though.”

“Christine, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I want to help Meg, but it seems a bit extreme don’t you think?” Raoul asked. 

“Well, it is not a bad idea. It gives a validity to her situation without putting her in a bad light and it keeps Erik in obscurity,” she said turning to Meg, “he’d be safe. And the De Chagny name would offer its own protection to a large degree against wagging tongues. Think of it for what it is, a farce, a part in a play.”

They sat for a moment in silence, slight shrugs the only indication that the truth of her statement was acknowledged.  
“What do you think, Madame Giry? What do you think of this idea, any reservations? Whatever we chose it must be quick. I imagine the doctor will be here soon.” 

Antoinette shook her head and sighed. “I cannot think of anything against it other than what has been expressed or alluded to. But after this, I think that as soon as possible Meg and Erik should try to leave France, or at least Paris. For while Christine is right that people will not openly defame her, or if they do they will be relatively few, she will still be treated like a pariah. I feel as if I am banishing my daughter.”

Meg felt a heavy lurch in her stomach, heaving for breath. This was too much. She felt sick. In a whirlwind, the two women ushered Erik and Raoul out, Madame Giry getting the waste bin in time for what came next.

Standing outside, the two men stood looking awkwardly at each other. “Morning sickness…ah, I hate to tell you what to do, seeing as this is- well I assume it is- your home, but I think perhaps you should wait in the kitchen. A carriage just stopped at the door.” 

Erik would have loved to give the little fop a backhand for the audacity at this order. Well more of a suggestion. He settled on a scowl and stalked off to the kitchen. Soon after the door closed behind him a knock sounded and heard the voice of what he pictured as an older typical looking doctor. He had greeted Raoul, expressing surprise at the sudden summons. “I hope there is nothing amiss with your little wife.” 

Raoul stammered out something rather unintelligible and ushered him to the back room. If he had to do this he’d rather the words came from the one who came up with it. After the door was safely shut, he made his way to the kitchen. He looked half foolish and very embarrassed. For a moment Erik almost pitied him for how awkward it would be for him. Not nearly so much as it would be for Meg, but still. It did not mean, however, he was ready to engage in any form of bantering with Raoul. After a few minutes of fruitlessly trying to get Erik to talk, Raoul went back out and paced the living room. 

After some time, his doctor came out wearing a rather stern face. “Well, they are both fine. You’ll excuse me, but I have to say I am not happy about this. Not so much that you chose to go the route of choosing someone to carry a child for you, but that you never talked about this with me. Monsieur, she’s carrying your child as well, and she should have been getting some proper care.”

Erik stood listening to all this, extreme amusement mixed with that strange feeling again of pity for Raoul as again he stammered something out. He heard a very audible sigh he could only imagine came from the older man. His voice had the beginning of a tremble that one always seems to hear in one that is aging.

“I think I understand. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. People of all walks of life sometimes find it hard to conceive. And surrogacy has been around for ages, since Bible times. You do not need to be ashamed that a couple of title thought they were having troubles. I have often found that when one stops trying and just enjoys the being with the one they love, a lot of times those little ones comes faster than they expect. Now as for the unfortunate attack, now that you should have called me immediately. I will not push for the man to be reported. Well enough of this. Do not mind my lecturing. The only thing I told the girl is that she really should at least tell her managers. Remind her I will be back in about a month to check up on her progress. Good luck, Monsieur, Raoul.” He said shaking his head with a smile and heading out. 

As the sound of his footsteps grew silent, Erik rushed from the kitchen heading straight for Meg. He felt a tightness in his chest at the mention of attack. He did not think Meg would frame it in such a light. Raoul was no less curious and followed him in. Meg was cushioned in her pillows, her hands draped over the sheets. In a strangely quiet voice, he asked what account she gave for the marks on her neck and body. 

Meg lifted her hand and beckoned him over. When he was seated next to her and his hand was in hers, she proceeded. “Another farce. The lies seems to multiply. I said that I had surprised a stagehand who worked at the opera who had been injured in the insurrection that broke out in the French occupation of Tunisia. That I had come across him in the chapel. He didn’t hear me come in so when I addressed him…"

“There is no one who works at the opera who had been there, Meg.”

“No, I know. At least he did not seem inclined to look into the matter deeper. I hope this is the last time I have to tell such wild tales. I want to rest, please. Maman, will you please?” Meg kept hold of Erik’s hand and he curled up next to her, throwing a half wave over his shoulder in a goodbye as Raoul and Christine were ushered from the room and soon thereafter, from the home. 

Weeks passed, Meg healed quickly and Erik had sought help from his friend Nadir in the search of a place elsewhere. Madame Giry had been right. While all due reference was shown her by the managers, who luckily, held their tongue in regard to the Baron de Castelot-Barbezac and his son. But there were whispers and titters among the girls, girls who only weeks and months before looked up to her with respect for her kindness as well as her position. Even Raoul had taken up scouring for a place where they could find, where after Meg’s confinement was over she could find a position in another opera if she chose. This brought up a decent list in several large cities worldwide. 

It was late morning when Erik made his way from the depths of the Palais Garnier headed up to the apartment. Erik missed walking out in the day. Wearing a mask now in Paris was sure to get him caught. Finally he had come up with a compound, in texture and color just like skin he could put on the scarred side of his face. While worried still of being apprehended, he thought the short distance would at least keep the risk to a minimum. He was met by Nadir and Raoul outside the building to tell him about a place. For a moment they both stared at him. The effect was so natural, he could pass unheeded now on the street, at least by men. Women, on the other hand, might gawk. Nadir smiled his approval and Raoul got down to business. New York would be ideal. A sea of people, a hub of culture and arts. A city that never sleeps. 

Erik listened to all this as they head up the stairs, feeling both relieved at the prospect and yet sad to leave the city they both loved so well. Maybe, was all he could think. Maybe something a little closer might be found. Those thoughts soon flew out the door and all three were greeted at the sight of long toned legs leading up to only a tutu that gave a tantalizing glimpse of a perfect rounded bottom, blonde hair falling down a smooth and flawless back. Meg turned slightly and colored up a bit. Her arm draped over her chest. Erik stood staring at this beauty, smiling as his eyes met the now slight bump of her cute tummy. Suddenly remembering there were two others there, he pushed them from the door and latched it. As the two men exchanged embarrassed smiles and passed back down the stairs they heard a ripple of laughter that got fainter as it receded further into the apartment. 

Nadir, as he head home, recalled fondly the playful scenes of his past with his wife while Raoul went home wondering if Christine would ever do such a thing and if he could get her to.


End file.
